


Blank Slates and Broken Promises

by Flyingflapjack



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby Rey, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Child Death, Evil First Order Cult Madness, Extensive Backstory, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Force is Still Present, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Memory Loss, Modern Fantasy AU, Not in Space, OC's - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rey Needs A Hug, Tags Contain Spoilers, Teen Ben Solo, the slowest of burns, time skip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22628110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyingflapjack/pseuds/Flyingflapjack
Summary: Rey Scavenger.An orphaned girl who has no idea who she is, or where she comes from. The only thing she's sure of, is that she was clearly not wanted.Kylo Ren.He used to have another name, but he no longer deems himself worthy of it. Not after he failed the people he cared most about.Two people, aching deeply for something to fill their empty hurt; to nullify it.One searching desperately for a home, for a place to belong. The other, longing to bury his sins so deeply that he can’t remember why he needed to in the first place.What they don’t know, is that their pasts are intertwined in ways they never would have guessed, and that they share a bond worth remembering.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 38
Kudos: 31





	1. The Rise and Fall (1963)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely reader! Thank you for reading my humble fic.  
> It's gonna be a wild ride.  
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing Beta, Morrigan's Muse!  
> Thank you being patient with me and my ludicrous overuse of em-dashes, LOL.  
> I appreciate you!
> 
> And with that, I will let the story begin!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Rey's grandparents, Arnu Palpatine, and Rory Alnova, and learn all about the First Order's tyranny over the people of Jakku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *

Boots. He hears boots—two sets of heavy ones. Arnu knows what this means, and he represses the grimace that threatens to overtake him as the metallic strides grow louder down the dim, metal corridor of the First Order encampment.

Taking subtle deep breaths, Arnu does his best to avoid gazing at the two males—who look no more than twenty—as they are dragged into the encampment unconscious, with thick suppressor bands on their wrists.

 _This isn’t right. None of this is right._ He thinks to himself, making sure that his mental shields are locked tight, as they always are; as they need to be.

He can’t risk his father ever finding out that he, the son of the Supreme Leader, sympathizes with the Jakkese. Nothing would save him then. Not even the Force.

Letting his gaze focus on a speck of dust in the distance, he watches his father grin in his peripheral vision, pleased, and enjoying every minute of the atrocity like the monster he is.

“These… _people_ ,” He spits the word like the feel of it offends his mouth. “They have power that they’ve made abundantly clear they are not willing to share. Too much. In fact, they overflow with it, and we are lucky the Jakkese know not of what that power can be capable of.”

The younger Palpatine nods at his father, making sure not to let his brows crease at the harsh words. He knows very well what will happen if he lets his true feelings show through, and he doesn’t want to be sent to the re-education chamber. He suppresses a shudder. Never again. Once was enough.

“Yes, father.” His voice is robotic, and crisp. No undertone of any emotions, though he is brimming with them; unheard, unexplored and locked away.

“We need to strike while the iron is hot. So long as they remain defenseless and clueless, they won’t stand a chance.” Sheev Palpatine chuckles triumphantly as he grips at Arnu’s shoulder, smiling wickedly to himself at the way his son suppresses a flinch upon contact.

 _Good._ He thinks. The boy should fear him like he is the Maker themselves. He is the supreme leader, after all, and someday, his son will take up that mantle for himself.

Arnu, however, has other plans. Plans that decidedly _do not_ include becoming the next Supreme Leader.

* * *

Making sure his face is fully covered by his rough, sand-coloured cloak, Arnu presses himself tightly against the cold, metal wall of a darkened alcove, waiting patiently for the guards in the ridiculous white armor to finally pass him.

“You can’t be serious.” The first guard says, incredulously shaking his helmet covered head.

“Dead serious, I swear. So, I told the guys; I told them that if they didn’t believe me, I’d bet a month of my dessert rations that I could hit that target!” The second guard replies, toting his rifle haphazardly over his shoulder as the first chuffs a laugh.

 _Idiots._ He thinks to himself.

“Well, that was a stupid bet. You know as well as I do that you can’t hit the broad side of a barn, man.” The first guard chuffs, earning a shove to the shoulder as they approach the small space where Arnu is situated.

“Well, I got it the first time!”

“Okay, Jim.”

“Hey, I hit it! Swear it on the Force!”

“I’m sure you did, pal.”

Arnu rolls his eyes, holding in a scoff as they pass him without a second glance. He’s never thought much of the guards that flood this place, and this exchange just solidifies what he already thinks of them: that they’re a bunch of bumbling fools with nothing better to do than join a glorified cult.

Taking his chance, Arnu quietly shoots out from the corner, travelling with strategic precision in the blind spots of the security cameras until he stand in the shadowed corner before the exit, his movements stilling as he checks his surroundings. He frowns as he spots two more guards lingering by the front door, one of which was carrying a boy no older than six, with dirty blonde hair, and pleading brown eyes. He freezes, a white-hot dread searing his insides.

_Damn it—now they’re taking kids?_

Arnu clicks his tongue, deciding right then and there that his plans for stealth are about to be tossed out the ever-loving window.

Stretching his hand out from his hiding spot, he loosely brushes his fingers across his palm, gathering enough of the force to pin the guard holding the child to the wall, while flicking his other hand in the direction of the second, splaying his fingers wide as he pushes the force through the guard's mind, effectively making him lose consciousness.

“ _Hey!_ What do you—”

The first guard’s head lolls as he, too, is rendered unconscious with a sharp flick of the wrist. Smirking to himself, he thanks the force for its help. Arnu looks down at the boy—now freed, but barely standing—who is shaking violently, with fat tears rolling down his face. Breathing deeply, he feels the prickling rage boil deep in his chest at the thought of what would have happened to the child, had he not interfered.

This is too far. It’s _always_ been too far…but this? _Children?_ He didn’t have a high opinion of his father to begin with, but he never thought the Supreme Leader would stoop so low. Clearly, he was wrong.

He briefly pulls his cloak down to smile warmly at the boy, pulling it back in place just as quickly. He _cannot_ be recognized by the cameras. Not by face, voice, or anything else. As far as they know he is gone for the week to a weapons conference two towns away, and he would like it to stay that way.

Arnu gestures to the door, pulling down his cloak once more, pleading with his hazel eyes for the boy to come with him. To escape. He really doesn’t want to take the child by force, but he’s running out of time, and he knows it.

The boy steels himself, the way only a child of war can do as he holds shaking arms out to Arnu, who wastes no time in hoisting him up onto his back, running through the doors, and straight to the closest vehicle he sees; a one-seater motorcycle, its keys already in the ignition.

He huffs a breath—it’s a double edged sword, really. The vehicle will provide a quick getaway, sure, but it also means there are people nearby. Probably very nearby. He grits his teeth, hopping on, while simultaneously adjusting the boy so that he is straddling the front of him.

“Hold on tight, little one.” Arnu swiftly wraps the boy in a layer of his cloak, positioning the child’s small arms and legs around his torso, and the child grips his cloak tightly, shaking as he buries his face in the thick, rough material. Revving the engine, Arnu turns to see at least ten armed guards running towards them, and he knows it’s now or never.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” The boy tightens his grip on Arnu’s cloak.

“O-okay.”

“Where is home?”

“N-niima. I’m from Niima.” Arnu clenches his jaw. That’s not far. Only half a day’s drive from here. With a slight quirk of his lips, Arnu makes his decision.

He slams the accelerator, and the engine screams to life as gravel crunches loudly under the bike’s sturdy wheels, flicking a barrage of the stuff at the quickly approaching soldiers.

 _This has to end. All of this._ Arnu thinks, a frown turning his expression to stone as he speeds off towards the nearest port.

* * *

“Mama, you have to calm down. We will find him. He can’t have gone far—”

“It’s been a whole _day_ , Rory. He’s gone, and _they_ took him. I know it in my old bones, and the force is screaming with it! _They took him._ ” Rory quickly wraps her arms around her wraith-like mother in a strong, comforting embrace while she steadily falls apart at the seams.

A frown deepens the stress lines on her forehead, and she feels a deep, inky shadow caressing her insides, viscous and all-consuming. _Hate_. She hates them, the First Order. They’ve stolen everything from her people.

They’ve already stolen her father…and now they’ve stolen her brother, too.

 _Children._ She all but hisses at the thought. _They’ve already taken everything else; our freedom, our peace, our livelihood. Now they take our children. When will it end? When is enough, enough?!_

Silent, rage-filled tears leak hot and angry down her face as she clutches at her mother, rubbing smooth circles across her back, trying to ignore the chilling feel of the bones jutting into her palm as the older woman chokes on her sobs.

“I’ll find him, Mama. I’ll do whatever it takes.” She rasps, her throat tight with anguish. She knows she needs to do this, and she doesn’t think she could live with herself if she didn’t at least try. With a strangled gasp, her mother whips up from Rory’s shoulder, shaking her head frantically.

“Don’t! Please. I can’t lose you too. Don’t leave me, Rory, _please!_ ” She begs, her ice blue eyes filled with absolute terror; near frenetic in its intensity. Rory bites her lip, quickly gathering her mother in her arms again.

“ _Shh, shhh._ I won’t, Mama. I won’t go. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” She lies, her throat thrumming with a steady burn as the tears roll even thicker down her already stained cheeks. Gritting her teeth, she pushes back the rising feeling of guilt that twists in her gut.

Her mother would be furious…but Rory knows what she has to do.

Tightening her arms around her mother in a silent goodbye, she swirls the force with her hand, twisting it around her mother’s mind as it gently coaxes her into a slumber. Pressing her lips together in a tight line, Rory doesn’t loosen her hold until she is absolutely sure her mother is deep in the dream world, where the worries of today can’t reach, and the Force can cradle her in its warmth.

Breathing deeply, she carefully lifts her mother from the ground, a task that shouldn’t be as easy as it is, she realizes with a shock. A sickening feeling clenches at her gut, and she suppresses a sob.

_She’s been giving us her rations again._

Cradling her mother’s chilled, bony frame closer to her chest, Rory quickly makes her way across the dirt ridden floors, and towards the thin, all-too uncomfortable sleeping mat. Lowering her, reverently, like the gleaming, precious jewel she is, Rory slowly tucks a blanket around her mama’s peaceful form.

Gently, so not to wake her, Rory places a kiss on her mother’s forehead, softly tucking a strand of silvery-brown hair behind her ear. Her breath shudders thinly as she rises, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her grime covered hand. Nodding to herself, she scribbles a note for her mother before covering herself with a deep green cloak, and slinging an emergency pack over her head and across her shoulder.

As she nears the door, her hand stills in the air before she turns the handle. _I should take a weapon._ She realizes, breathing deeply, her exhale pushing past her lips with a low hiss as she wraps her fingers around her quarterstaff, knowing by the soft tugs and wisps of the Force around her that she’s doing the right thing.

_I’ll be back, Mama. Until the sun burns from the sky, and the waters dry with it. Even then, I’ll love you still._

* * *

Arnu inhales sharply, blinking twice, to make sure he isn’t imagining things. A small smile cracks at the edge of his mouth as he reaches for his hand gun, watching as the girl before him dances across the sandy gravel, dodging the debris on the ground while still managing to spin her quarterstaff with a fluid ease as she takes out two of three First Order goons.

She knocks them to the ground with a heavy thud, turning quickly to hurtle a well-aimed stone—thrown with a rather impressive, concise use of the force—into an open crack in the third’s helmet, rendering him unconscious as well. Arnu’s smile blooms full and wide underneath the cover of his cloak.

 _She is marvellous._ He’d never seen anything like her, and if he hadn’t had the youngling resting on his back, he knew he would have stopped to at least know her name. He purses his lips, weighing his options as he trudges forward towards the woman, who is breathing rather heavily as she brushes the loose strands of her hazelnut brown hair out of her face. As he gets closer, her near-black eyes shift suspiciously to Arnu, and the girl’s grip around her staff tightens.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is clear and concise as she pulls her staff in front of her torso, eyes narrowing as she takes in Arnu’s cloak, and the lump that is the slumbering boy slung across his back, his face buried in the thick material. Arnu pulls the cloak from his face, smiling ruefully at her.

“Well, I was going offer to help _you_ , but it seems like you have things handled.” Amusement shines in Arnu’s eyes as she furrows her brows, confusion muddying her obsidian eyes. Chuckling, he gestures towards the unconscious pile of troopers. She chuffs, rolling her eyes, and Arnu feels a light shuffling on his back, signaling him that the child is awakening.

“What makes you think I’d _want_ —”

She freezes, mid-sentence, letting out a shaky breath as her eyes go impossibly wide, locked on to the boy resting atop his shoulder, who was currently yawning, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Frowning at her change in demeanor, Arnu takes a step forward, only to halt as the woman drops her staff to the ground; eyes hard and teeth gritted before charging at him.

Jumping backwards, all amusement drains from his face as he adjusts the child to a safer position in his arms—but his movements are useless. In a split second he finds the breath slammed from his lungs as an angry rush of the force suspends him in the air.

His eyes shoot frantically to the boy, panicking as he floats slowly to the ground while the young woman’s use of the force binds him into stillness; wrapping unforgiving restraints around his joints, his lungs, his _everything._ Black spots dance in his vision due to lack of oxygen, and he can’t help the raw laugh that somehow sneaks out of his tightened throat.

_What a woman._

“Rory, _no!_ He helped me, Rory, don’t hurt him!” The boy all but shrieks, rushing towards the woman as her eyes widen in horror at the boy’s declaration. The force immediately loosens its hold on him, and Arnu’s lungs expand painfully, greedily choking on the abundance of air that is suddenly available as he crashes to the ground.

The air, however—though much needed—does nothing to shield him from the shard of glass in the gravel that pierces his side upon contact with the rough terrain. At the stabbing pain now radiating through his waist, Arnu lets a pained cry rip from his raw throat, his face twisting with a grimace as the warm stickiness of his blood pools underneath him.

“ _Kriff_ —no, no, no, no, no. Stay with me, you hear me?” The panicked voice carries through the air, and Arnu cracks an eye open to find the girl hovering over him with a furrowed brow. Struggling, he manages to find the strength to muster a smile as he meets her concerned gaze.

“See? Definitely don’t need my h-help.” He coughs roughly, the dark spots pooling back into his vision, and it isn’t long before they’re blacking it out completely. He should be more concerned about this, he really should…but he just can’t bring himself to worry about it.

Somehow, Arnu feels safer at the mercy of a woman who just tried to kill him than he ever has in his life. With a sardonic ghost of a smile at the thought, his head falls towards the gravel. Arnu expects pain, but the impact doesn’t come. Instead, a small, strong hand slides up the back of his neck to cradle his head, and he smiles weakly at the feeling, his body steadily becoming weak and boneless.

Before he loses consciousness, a small tendril of the force nudges him, offering consolation in the form of soft, warm pulses as it flits across his skin, curling around his injured side to soothe his pain with promises of a tomorrow he isn’t sure he’ll get to wake up to.

* * *

“Hey, wake up. You’ve slept long enough.” A smooth, alto voice coaxes Arnu from unconsciousness, and he grunts as a cool cloth is placed on his forehead. Annoyed at whomever is trying to steal his sleep, he attempts to roll over, but stops when the familiar pull of stitches yanks at the skin of his side. Feeling soft, slightly calloused hands trying to roll him back over, he lets them, liking the feel of them against his back.

“C’mon, hero guy. Ya gotta wake up! Mama’s gonna make some soup for you to eat, and Mama’s soup is the _beeeeest_.” A pause, followed by an impatient huff. “If you don’t get up, I’m gonna eat. It. _All._ ” A smile cracks Arnu’s lips at the sound of the young boy’s teasing lilt.

 _He’s safe. Good._ A click of the tongue, followed by a soft smack and an annoyed whine has his eyes peeking open with interest, and he represses a laugh at the scene before him.

The woman from before— _the marvellous, terrifying one_ —she is waggling a finger at the young boy while pointing at him with the other, muttering something about manners, and not threatening starvation upon the guests. This makes him chuckle, and the woman snaps her gaze to him. He swears he can see a ghost of a smile curving across her lips.

“Hah! See Rory, _see?_ Mama’s soup fixes _everything!_ ” He claps excitedly, bounding from the room with a gleeful laugh, and Rory shakes her head with a deep sigh before heading towards Arnu, and turning her attention to his injury.

Taken aback by her sudden proximity, his breath hitches, her deft fingers gently prodding the edges of the dressing, making sure they’re secure against his side. Mistaking the noise for pain, she retracts her hands, glancing at him apologetically.

“Sorry, I can’t imagine you’re very comfortable like that.” She gestures at his shirtless state, and Arnu doesn’t miss the way her eyes linger on his muscled form. He smirks, noting—and very much enjoying—the blush that blooms across her cheeks as she quickly looks away.

 _And here I thought Anakin’s training regimens were too extreme._ He would remember to thank the man later _._

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine…but if _you’d_ prefer I cover up, I have no issue with that.” He drawls, finding the way she fidgets _very_ endearing. He can hardly believe this is the same woman that put three troopers on their asses, but somehow it just makes her all the more alluring.

Rory clears her throat. “I-I suppose first off I should say I’m sorry about this, truly. You saved Jay, and here I repay you by strangling you, then dropping you onto a pile of glass.” She shakes her head. “You’re incredibly lucky the glass found your side, and not your skull.” She says lowly, her eyes unconsciously roving over Arnu’s form once more.

Suddenly becoming conscious of the fact that she is all but ogling the poor man, she snaps her gaze to the wall, quickly rising to grab a knitted blanket from the other side of the room. Arnu doesn’t miss her reaction, and a grin flashes across his face as he waves his hand dismissively.

 _Definitely,_ definitely _have to thank Anakin later._

“Think nothing of it. You didn’t know who I was, and I had your brother. I can hardly blame you for being protective of him.” He chuckles as she drapes the blanket over him, wincing as the laugh pulls at his stitches. Rory notices, her brows creasing in concern.

“Speaking of that—I should probably introduce myself properly.” She sticks out a hand. “Rory Alnova, pleasure to meet you.”

 _Isn’t it just that._ He thinks to himself, smoothly taking her outstretched hand, deftly pulling her forward to bring it ever-so-slightly to his lips. She gasps, and his eyes stay trained on her as he places a whisper soft kiss against the tanned skin of her knuckles.

“Arnu.” He says simply, lowering her hand, and letting it go. “The pleasure’s all mine.” Her lips twist in a delicious smirk, and she crosses her arms.

“For someone who’s just cheated death, you’re pretty _chipper._ ”

“What can I say, your presence is like a balm to my soul.”

Barking a laugh, Rory grins ruefully.

“I think you’re full of it.” She bites her lip, shaking her head. “But you’re persistent, I’ll give you that, Arnu.”

His eyes brighten, and he finds that he enjoys the way she says his name. He enjoys it a _lot._

“That I may be, Rory Alnova, that I may be; but it seems to me that you’re enjoying our banter a touch more than you’re letting on.” He raises an eyebrow as her face turns crimson, and she sputters incoherently.

“I— _well_ , uh, no—um. _Yes?_ ” Rory winces as she sputters out her reply, but Arnu simply grins at her admission, joy blooming in his chest. It’s an emotion he hasn’t had the pleasure of feeling for a _very_ long time.

His happiness plummets off a cliff, however, as he realizes he’s going to have to tell her just _who_ he is; and he knows she probably won’t be tripping over her words once she realizes he’s practically the heir to the First Order throne.

He wouldn’t blame her for it either.

Arnu sighs deeply, wishing he could just abandon his life, and his title, just to stay here with Rory and her adorable stuttering. But he knows he has a responsibility to right his father’s wrongs, and it’s something he knows only he can set in motion. Sighing deeply, his eyes shift to Rory, who is studying him with pursed lips; seemingly confused at his change in demeanor.

“Now, as much as I’m enjoying our talk, I fear what I have to say next might put a damper on things…though I’m hoping I’ve proved I’m not a threat to you.” Arnu says, dread coiling and twisting in his gut as Rory frowns at his words. Turning his head to focus on the ceiling, he mulls over what he’s about to admit, trying to find the best way to phrase it.

“You’re First Order, aren’t you?” Arnu’s eyes widen, shooting to Rory, who is sitting calmly: a sympathetic smile pulling at her lips, and crinkling her dark eyes. He nods, his breathing turning shallow as he braces for the worst.

But, the worst doesn’t come. Instead, he finds Rory leaning closer, her small fingers pushing tangles of his dirty blonde hair behind his ear.

“You…but… _why aren’t I dead yet?_ ” He deadpans.

Rory chuckles at this, gesturing out the door as he hears her mother and brother bickering at each other from the other room.

“He. Needs. Soup!”

“No, what he needs is rest.”

“AND. _SOUP!_ ”

“Fine, fine—and soup.”

“…I get some too, right?”

“Of course, Jay.”

“YESSSSS!”

They both chuckle at the exchange, vaguely catching Rory’s brother chanting about soup as he bounds across the house. Arnu smiles, glad to see some life in the boy, rather than the bleak darkness that clouded his eyes when he found him in the encampment.

“You aren’t _‘dead yet’_ —as you so eloquently put it—because you brought my brother home to me. You saved him from whatever the First Order had planned for him.” Her lips curl in a soft smirk. “And, when I was fighting those guards, you were getting ready to help me, too, were you not?” She rests her chin in her palm, smiling warmly at Arnu, who is very much at a loss for words.

“If you were any threat to me or my people, you’d have proven it by now. That, and I can feel the Force in you. It isn’t malevolent, like _they_ usually are. It’s…” She pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Softer, but also unyielding. I think the Force has big plans for you, Arnu.” He smiles at this, closing his eyes as a laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Well, I’m certainly not here to cause your people any more pain. My father’s done enough of that to last a lifetime, and I want to rectify it. This madness has to be brought to an end.” He turns to look at her then, only to still as he takes in her expression: eyes wide in shock, as the colour slowly drains from her cheeks. Arnu’s face pinches to the side, and a wave of regret fills him to the brim.

_Damn it, you’ve said too much._

It was hard not to say too much with her. Despite knowing her for less than a day, everything about her made him feel safe. _Too safe_. He thinks wistfully. Safe enough to spill secrets. Though, he isn’t sure if that’s really such a bad thing.

“Y-you’re…you’re the Supreme Leader’s _son?_ ” She hisses, unconsciously creating distance between herself and Arnu. “You’re not— _you can’t be._ You’re not like them.” She rambles, shaking her head as she brings a hand to curl around a necklace nestled at the base of her throat. Arnu sighs, letting his voice fall whisper quiet. His anger flares, setting his jaw rigid, and his eyes hard.

“I’m not like them, no. I loathe everything they stand for, and I want nothing more than for them to be disassembled. Sheev Palpatine may be my father, but I would not hesitate to end his life if I was given the chance. He is…he’s a _monster._ ”

Arnu clenches his fist, anger seeping out of his is pores in palpable waves as he thinks of the things his father has done to Rory’s people—Kriff, the things he’s done to their _own_ people.

He hears Rory let out a choked, sardonic chuckle, and when he meets her eyes, he’s shocked to see them running over with tears. Without thinking, he reaches for her, desperate to rectify the pain he’s caused. Grief clouds his mind, and he worries that she hates him now that she knows where he’s come from. He clenches his jaw.

_I can’t lose Rory. Not this soon after finding her._

He can’t hide the shock on his face when she takes his hand in her own, squeezing it with a reassurance he didn’t know he needed.

“You may be the most unfortunate of all of us, then.” She says, and it’s then he realizes that her tears aren’t because she’s disgusted with him—no—her tears are _for_ him. Arnu’s heart thuds painfully in his chest, and his throat tightens as he feels moisture pool in the corners of his eyes.

Nobody’s ever cried for him before. With a shaky breath, he realizes that this woman…this _stranger,_ has made him feel more loved than his family ever has, and all it took were her tears. He clears his throat roughly, taking his hand from Rory’s to shield his misty eyes from her view, feeling wholly ashamed at his emotional weakness.

“Hey, _hey._ It’s alright. You’re safe now, it’s okay to cry. No one will judge you for that here.” Rory croons softly, slowly moving Arnu’s hand away from his face, carefully wiping the tears from his hazel eyes with the lightly calloused pad of her thumb. As their skin makes contact, the Force grips Arnu’s entire being, strangling a gasp from his lungs, and he finds he is no longer with Rory in her home.

He’s somewhere else entirely.

Blinking his eyes, he can’t believe what he is seeing. No longer is he surrounded by Rory’s run down, dust covered home. Instead, he now stands in the doorway of a large and elaborate conference room, surrounded by tall glass windows that offer an awe-inspiring view of the mountains of Ach-To; a wealthy island nation that lies to the south. In the middle of the pristine room sits a grand oak table, surrounded by several influential political figures from across the world. Arnu shakes his head, bringing a hand up to rest over his mouth.

_This is absolutely nuts._

The people around the table continue talking back and forth, and Arnu realizes that he recognizes some of the names they toss around as they speak amongst themselves: Organa, Solo, Amidala, Tico, Kenobi—even the _Windu’s_ are in attendance. He lets out a low whistle—that family hasn’t been heard from in _decades._

His mouth goes dry as he scrambles to piece together the cause that these powerful figures are gathering for.

Then, his breath leaves him as he sees Anakin, Maul, and—his eyes go wide—he sees _Amedda._ His father’s right hand man. His breathing hastens, heart thundering in his chest.

_There are high ranking First Order officials here._

Whipping his head as he hears Rory’s increasingly familiar lilt, he realizes that they are there too. He barks out an incredulous laugh. Oh, they’re there alright.

_Right at the head of the table._

Arnu blanches, fear and excitement prickling up his spine and in his belly when he realizes what he is seeing.

They…they’re leading a _resistance!_ And from the pleased look on Amedda’s scheming face, they’re also planning a coup. Arnu feels his face split into a grin as the Force flows gleefully around him, slamming his mind back into his body, but not before showing him one last vision.

It’s of his father. An angry scowl falls over the man’s wrinkled face, like he doesn’t believe he deserves this fate. Crying out for revenge, he falls to his knees, and his lungs exhale their last breath. Arnu’s heart simultaneously breaks, and fills with relief all at once, but before he can even process his conflicting emotions, he’s back in Rory’s broken down house.

With his heart audibly pounding in his chest, he whips his head to Rory, relieved to see her grinning, her face lined with tears as she begins to laugh in disbelief. He smiles at the happiness shining in her eyes, deciding then and there that he’d do anything to keep them that way.

“Rory?” He asks, glad that she hadn’t taken her hand out of his while he’d had the Force vision. Her eyes meet his, and he sees an understanding in them, and it’s then that he knows.

“You saw it too.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes, Arnu. _I saw._ We…we can end this. W _e can save them._ ” She says with a choked laugh, and eyes filled with awe. Squeezing Rory’s hand in his, he brings it to his heart, holding it steady against his pulse.

“I swear to you, Rory. I swear, I will do whatever I can to end my father’s reign, and to bring an end to the First Order once and for all. This will stop, and your people will finally, _finally_ have peace.” Arnu declares, finding his pain miraculously gone as he sits up, laying soft, emotion filled eyes on the woman in front of him, who is nearly bursting with hope.

“We’ll do it _together_. I can sense it. The Force wills it.” The words come out of Rory’s mouth in a rush of soft air, and the gaze that she pins him with makes his brain fuzzy, and his insides feel weak…but in the _best_ way.

“Together, then. We’ll end this together.” Arnu murmurs, reaching forward to tuck a strand of Rory’s hazelnut coloured hair behind her ear, smiling gently as she brings her hand up to cover his.

* * *

And so, their shared Force vision came to fruition; the most powerful families gathering from all around the globe to bear arms in the fight against the First Order from the inside out. Many lives were lost, but many more than that were saved.

Coming as a surprise to absolutely no one, Rory and Arnu found themselves falling in love as they fought for their people’s peace and freedom, and swore themselves to each other under a full moon, surrounded by their loved ones, and the many people they befriended in their quest for peace.

In true Jakkese fashion, they sealed their union with a vow, and an exchange of inscribed necklaces, Arnu's a simple silver pendant, and Rory's a more elaborate locket. Rory, wanting the words to be sentimental, etched a traditional saying that she held close to her heart onto the back of the round metal surface. It read:

 _Arnu. I’m yours until the sun burns from the sky, and the waters dry with it. Even then, I’ll love you still_.

Her husband, however, was not a man to be outdone. Little did he know, the locket he’d give to Rory—and the words carved into it—would be treasured for years, and even generations to come.

_To my Scavenger. The one who saw worth in the most damaged of goods, and fixed them into something whole._

And when the day finally, _finally_ came that the First Order was disbanded and Sheev Palpatine let out his final breath, Arnu and Rory rose to become the leaders and heroes of Jakku, effectively clearing the Palpatine name, and proving to the world that there is always a glimmer of hope in the bleakest of situations.

At least, that’s what they thought.


	2. The Whimsy of Youth (2005)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forty-two years after Arnu and Rory's story, we meet fifteen-year-old Ben, who is living on the Palpatine estate and training to be a knight with the help of his gruff uncle, General Chewbacca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading. I appreciate every kudos, comment, bookmark and subscribe more than you all know! They make my heart smile. 
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to my amazing beta, Morrigan's Muse!  
>  Her amazing advice and hilarious quips are what keep my story fresh and grammatically correct.

* * *

Ben Organa-Solo walked quickly through the crisp, blue halls of the Palpatine mansion, his ever lengthening legs carrying him across the maple floors with a pace that seemed to grow faster and faster each day. He grinned as he zipped through towards his destination, reveling in the fact that he’d hit another growth spurt.

The fifteen year old boy had been near gleeful when the telltale aching in his limbs became stronger as the days passed, hoping that sooner than later his height would catch up to the General’s. Much to his excitement, he was already well on his way.

 _I’ll definitely be able to beat him in a fight if I’m bigger than he is._ He thinks with a wry grin. _That’ll teach the old fuzzbucket._

General Chewbacca had just paged him to the staff house for today’s training, and he knew full well that he had about ten minutes before the behemoth of a man would rip his head off for being late. Ben laughed ruefully to himself. It certainly made for more eventful training when Chewie was revved up and itching for a fight, which was decidedly something he wanted to avoid.

Quickly descending the steps, two at a time, Ben can’t help the joy and anticipation coursing through him; ever eager to see what Chewie has planned for him today. He frowned, his thoughts turning to how he’d never been this motivated to do his work at home.

But then again, he never quite felt _‘at home’_ there to begin with.

With a sigh, he remembered the day his parents finally agreed to let him travel abroad to train with his Uncle. He’d been ecstatic, maybe even more so than when his dad had let him drive his ’60 Ford Falcon for the first time. He smiled wistfully, remembering the feeling of driving the convertible down the highway; the wind rushing around his face, and through his thick, dark hair, and the Force flying around them both in gleeful waves.

But what he treasured most about that was wasn’t driving— _no_ —the best thing about that day was the wide grin plastered across his father’s face, and the love clearly visible in his eyes as Ben drove Han’s prized possession like he’d been doing it his whole life.

That had been a glorious, _glorious_ day. Ben felt the Force flutter playfully around him at the memory, ruffling his hair as it re-enacted the feeling of the wind through his dark tresses.

Ben smirked then, remembering how his dad had looked at him as he masterfully navigated the busy traffic of Alderra city. _Proud._ An uncomfortable weight settled in his chest then, and he wished there’d been more days where he’d been able to draw pride from his parents before he’d disappointed them so deeply with his life choices.

As he rounded the last corner, the hulking man that was General Chewbacca came into view, leaning casually against his office door with his arms crossed. When he saw the young man hastily round the corner, he cocked an eyebrow, lifting himself from his position against the wall.

Ben cringed at the amused expression in the General’s eyes— _that_ was never a good sign.

_Shit. Not fast enough._

“Will there ever come a day when you get here on time?” He says gruffly, a smirk barely visible beneath his full beard.

_Well, double shit._

He was in a good mood, which was a very, _very_ unfortunate thing for Ben; it meant his Uncle had thought of something extra _creative_ for him to do today.

Holding back a grimace, Ben slows his pace, sincerely hoping that the man’s obsession with the whole _‘wax on, wax off’_ thing from that karate movie was over with.

He shudders, remembering how many times he’d moved the cloth over the man’s motorcycle while using the Force, so much that his brain felt like a bowl of literal putty afterwards.

 _‘Endurance training’_ he’d called it. Ben scoffs, shaking his head. Endurance _torture_ was more like it.

“Depends. You ever gonna give me more than ten minutes to get from one side of this place to the other?”

Chewie huffs a laugh. “It’s all part of the training, kid. _I_ can do it in five. You’re still a spring chicken, so really, you should be able to get er’ done much faster than I ever could.”

“Oh, that’s absolute horse shit and you know it.” Ben rolls his eyes at the General, who grins at the boy’s words while crossing the distance between them.

“ _Language._ I think it’s an even bigger pile of horse _dung_ that you can’t make it in less than ten.”

Ben smirks at his correction. It’s the General’s own fault he has a mouth like a sailor…not that he’d ever tell him that to his face. _Yet._ Feigning innocence, Ben winces as he gently gestures to his legs.

“That’s such a long way though! Besides, I’m having growing pains.” He hisses a dramatic breath inwards. “My legs are one fire, like, _all the time_. Surely you can cut me a little slack here, Chewie.”

The older man rolls his eyes so far back into his head that Ben thinks they might fall out. He’d laugh if they did. It’d serve the old fuzzbucket right.

“Oh _Benny boy_ , you poor thing! Do I need to call your mom? I’m sure I could get her to send you some chicken soup all the way from Alderaan. Should we call for a medic? Do we need to sedate you?” He drawls sarcastically, until Ben pushes at his shoulder with a playful grin.

“ _Ha. Ha._ Very funny _._ Besides, you know as well as I do that her chicken soup is not fit for human consumption. It would only make things worse.”

Chewbacca guffaws at this, walking past Ben with a shake of his head. “For my own health and safety, I’m gonna pass on that particular subject.”

“Probably for the best. She has ears everywhere.”

“Yeah, and none bigger than yours, Benny boy.”

“Wow. I am _deeply_ offended.”

“I try my best. Now, quit stalling, we have work to do.” He stops, looking back at Ben with a grin. “Or should I say _you_ have work to do.”

 _Great._ Ben sighs. _What next—washing dishes for twelve hours using nothing but a toothbrush?_

The General gestures over his shoulder for Ben to follow as he walks down through the mansion, eventually stopping in front of a large bookshelf at the end of the hall.

Ben frowns, watching Chewie with narrowed eyes as the man thumbs through the books on the shelf until he reaches a rather thick, leather bound book titled _‘Finding Balance’_. Ben starts to laugh, ready to quip about how surely he could learn about more useful things than _balance_ , but the snarky remark dies on his lips when Chewie pulls the book forward with a loud clunk, causing a large section of the shelf to pull inward, splitting in the middle to reveal a dimly lit staircase.

“Today’s lesson: secret passageways.” The older man smiles widely.

A grin splits Ben’s face, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. Unable to hold back his absolute delight at this development, he claps once—very loudly—and the sound echoes noisily through the hall. Chewbacca slowly turns, his eyebrows raised, and an amused smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

“You sure you’re feeling well enough to explore, y’know, what with your _growing pains_ and all?” The General chides.

Ben scoffs loudly, nearly bouncing on his heels with the anticipation of getting to know the passages that run underground and through the walls of the Palpatine estate. He’d been itching to explore them ever since he’d gotten here, and the old fuzzbucket knows it.

“Chewie.”

“I mean really, we could just read today. I know how much you _love_ learnin’ about the history of—”

_“Chewie.”_

The General’s eyes crinkle and he rumbles a laugh, shaking his head as he heads down the stairs and into the tunnel. Ben quickly follows suit.

“You’re too easy to rile up, Benny boy.” He pauses, bringing a hand to his beard, contemplating. “We’d better work on that, actually. Not good to be too trigger happy, y’know. That’s how accidents happen.”

Ben scoffs, crossing his arms. “Well, it would certainly help if I didn’t have to deal with a certain someone’s supreme assholery throughout the day.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your friend Poe is a piece of work.” Chewie deadpans.

A sharp laugh bursts from Ben’s chest as they venture further into the dimly lit tunnel, the maple wood floors abruptly turning into concrete as they trudge along.

“You got me there. Poe is the absolute definition of a piece of work…but that’s what makes him so fun _._ ” Chewie lets out a huff of air at Ben’s words.

“You and I have different definitions of _‘fun’_ , kid.” The man shakes his head, slowing his pace as they came up to a fork in the tunnels. Ben careens his head around each corner, but it’s too dim to really discern their surroundings besides the concrete floors and curved metal walls.

“Now, back on topic. The tunnels underneath the house and in its walls were built by Arnu—may his soul rest in peace—and Rory Palpatine. They grew up in the midst of the First Order dictatorship, as you well know.”

Ben nods absently at his words, his eyes glossing over a touch at the mention of history.

 _Oh, I know, alright_.

Ben was sure he probably knew more about the war than his honourary Uncle did. His mother had made damn sure he painstakingly studied just about every detail that had to do with the First Order War. Their family had been instrumental in disbanding the heinous group, after all.

“Even though the war was over when they actually built the place, they wanted to make sure that if their family ever needed to make themselves scarce, they had an escape route. So, they built these bad boys.” The General gestures to the tunnels with a wide sweep of his arm, and Ben’s eyes widen as he really realizes the depth of them for the first time. In that moment, his respect for the Palpatine family grows significantly.

Their family’s bravery in the face of adversity is what made Ben want to be a part of the Knights of Organa in the first place.

The Knights were created by his mother’s parents as protection for the Kingdom of Alderaan and its allies during the war. They were known for being protectors; for being just, and swift in their pursuit of people that would do their country harm.

He’d always had a deep seeded need to protect those close to him, and when he’d first seen the knights in action when he was a young boy, he knew he was all in.

Besides that, just because danger wasn’t looming on the horizon now, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any later. That’s just not how the world works.

And yet, his parents still didn’t get it. Ben frowns, his fist clenching until his knuckles turn white.

Even though his reasons for wanting to join the knights are good, noble even, both of his parents remain dead set against it. _Too dangerous_ , they’d say.

He works his jaw. Being a knight is supposed to be an _honourable_ thing, and he just can’t understand why his parents didn’t want him to follow his dreams; to chase his passion.

He would never be happy being a figurehead prince, like his mother wanted. He doesn’t think he could stomach sitting by safe, sound, and miserable while people put their lives at risk for his safety.

He didn’t want to be an arms dealer like his father hoped, either. He’d always felt…conflicted about Han’s work, and he knew he wouldn’t willingly put weapons in the hands of others, or work with people that could potentially use them against his loved ones. Never.

_Not that my parents care much about whether I’m happy or not. Too busy with their own lives for that._

“Ben?” Chewie frowns, waving a hand in front of the teen’s face. He knows the look in the boys’ eyes all too well. The faded emotions, the shadow of frustration. He’s seen it one too many times in the eyes of his best friend to dismiss it as nothing.

Sighing deeply, he gently lays a calloused hand on Ben’s shoulder, startling him out of whatever darkness had invaded his thoughts. Ben snaps his eyes to Chewie, who simply offers a reassuring smile.

Realizing he’d gotten lost in his own head, Ben lets the tension slowly leak from his system, shaking his head; his fists slowly unclenching.

“Sorry. Just got…distracted.” His eyebrows crease as he tries to push the thoughts from his head.

_None of that. No more brooding, Solo. Just focus on what’s happening in front of your face for once._

“No kidding! You were thinkin’ so hard I could almost see the steam comin’ out your ears, kid.” Chewie’s never been good at hiding his concern for others, and Ben knows without a doubt that his uncle’s jokes are a thinly veiled attempt at distraction.

Something he will always welcome with open arms.

“Yeah, well. Doesn’t take much these days.” Ben smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Chewie lets out a long breath, scratching his beard in thought.

“Look, I know things are rough right now, what with you and your folks not seeing eye-to-eye. I know better than anyone that they can both be stubborn as all hell…but they do love you, kid. More than you know.” Chewbacca’s eyes are soft as he says this, and Ben isn’t used to seeing that from the gruff man. Taken off guard, he flattens his lips into a thin line.

 _If they love me so damn much, then why didn’t they ever show it?_ The force tugs gently at his mind, calming, and reassuring.

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make things any easier, though.” Ben looks down at his feet, kicking a loose stone from under his boot, the sound of it bouncing across the concrete floor echoing through the tunnels.

Chewie sighs deeply. “I know, kid, I know.” The General straightens then, stretching his neck to either side, and rubbing his hands together.

“Alright, enough with the mushy stuff. We’ve wasted enough energy on that for the day; ‘bout time we get to learnin’ you a thing or two about navigation.”

Ben nods, watching with rapt interest as the General pulls out a map from his back pocket, dragging his finger across the worn paper until it settles over top of the number one on the map, which if Ben was guessing right, was where they were located.

“It’s easy, really. We’re right here, in tunnel one. This one goes around to the utility rooms—kitchen, boilers, laundry, staff house, all that—and connects to both tunnel two, and three.” Ben leans in, his eyes taking in the map as Chewbacca continues his explanation.

“Tunnel two runs a loop through all the quarters—the master bedroom, then all the kids’ rooms from oldest to youngest, and the two guest rooms.” Chewie pauses, smiling as he sees Ben studying the map with a focused eye.

“What about tunnel three? Is that the escape route?” Ben asks, and Chewie’s smile turns into a grin.

“You bet your ass it is. You catch on quick, Benny boy. Tunnel three connects to tunnel one, and leads out to the eastern edge of the succulent gardens.”

Ben’s chest puffs up a bit at the praise, and he lifts his head to look down the fork in the road.

“It makes absolute sense—a loop around all of the rooms and common areas that connect back to the exit tunnel.”

“You got it, kid.” Chewbacca folds the map up, putting it back in his pocket. “So, now that you’ve figured that part out, why don’t we do a couple of drills?”

Ben nods, taking a deep breath as he readies for his instructions, his nerves buzzing with anticipation.

_This is way better than waxing that damn motorcycle._

“Okay. I’m going to be in the gardens at the exit. Your job is to make a lap around the tunnels, and find the items I’ve hidden around each door. There’s twelve total. After you find them, make a stop in the kitchens to see Maz. Don’t worry, she’ll be expecting you, and she’ll have your final item. Once you’ve got ‘em all, take tunnel three to meet me in the gardens. Clear?” Chewie raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Ben nods curtly, stretching his legs, and shaking his limbs out.

“Clear.”

“And for motivation, how about this. The faster you get through, the easier I’ll go on your force control training tomorrow.” The older man grins wryly when Ben’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Then I’d better get moving.” And with that, Ben shoots off into the tunnels with a grin stretching his face, leaving a chuckling Chewie in his wake, shaking his head.

“Hey! You’re supposed to wait for my signal!” He bellows into the distance.

Ben laughs, loud and joyful as his long limbs rip through the concrete floors of the tunnels, his lungs burning as he breathes in the old, stale air.

Reveling in the sound of his feet falling against the ground with each stride, he can’t help but find it ironic that in these musty, cramped, dirt-covered tunnels, he’s never felt so free.


	3. A Thin, Red String (2005)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ben babysits the Palpatine kids, and gets sent on a rescue mission to find a very lost, very smol Rey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading. Your comments, and kudos give me such life, and inspire me to keep on writing.  
>  You guys are the BEST!
> 
> Thank you to Morrigan's Muse, and JGoose13 for beta-ing this chapter! I appreciate you both so much.
> 
> ALSO! The BB!Ben(TM) picture in my moodie has been brought you by @adamdriversputa on Twitter.  
>  Go say hi, and give her some love! 
> 
> https://twitter.com/adamdriversputa

* * *

Chewbacca happily jostles the bag of various things he’d tasked Ben with collecting, and after popping the last bite of the sandwich from Maz in his mouth, he bounces his finger at Ben, who is nearly gasping for breath.

“Honestly, kid. I’m impressed. For someone that can barely make it to training on time, you sure ran the tunnels with lightning speed.” He muses at the teen, who is doubled over with his hands on his knees, panting raggedly.

“You picked…a good motivation.” Ben rasps, standing straight as he brings a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Chewie laughs, deep and throaty. “You really hate Force training that much?” The General crosses his arms, an amused smirk flitting across his face.

Ben scoffs, shooting the man an incredulous look.

“You would too if you had to wax a motorcycle for _twelve hours_.” Ben shakes his head when Chewie guffaws at his clear disdain, the older man’s chest shaking as the laughter rumbles out.

“You can’t argue with the classics, kid. You’ll thank me later for making you do it.”

“Doubt it. Pretty sure I’m traumatized.”

“ _Wax on, wax off—_ ”

“Oh, _gods_ , make it stop!” Ben covers his ears, smiling as Chewbacca lets out another boom of laughter into the air. The boy shakes his head with a smile, before shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, eyes narrowing playfully at his Uncle.

“One of these days, I’m gonna get back at you for that unadulterated torture.” He lifts his chin towards the man, and Chewie simply huffs, uncrossing his arms from his broad chest.

“Oh, I _highly_ doubt that.”

“Good— _doubt it._ The win will be even more glorious if you don’t see it coming.” Ben grins, bending to wipe some of the dust from the tunnels off his knees. The General opens his mouth to say something, but the happy, ear-piercing squeals of children abruptly cut him off.

Ben turns his head towards the noise, and smiles softly when he sees the Palpatine twins chasing after each other with little toy planes. Chewie stretches his back, the bones in his spine popping loudly.

“Welp, that’s my cue to head out. Got some _real_ work to do, y’know?” Chewbacca ruffles Ben’s hair—much to his dismay—and turns back towards the mansion, sticking his hand up in a static wave.

“Yeah, sure. _‘Work’_. Tell Maz I say hello, you old fuzzbucket!” Ben shouts at the General’s retreating form, smiling when he sees Chewie’s shoulders shake with laughter before he turns around, a glint of mischief in his deep brown eyes.

“Watch it, or I might just take back that little prize you earned earlier.” He chuckles, and Ben’s expression turns to mock horror as he quickly sticks his hands up in surrender.

“ _I yield._ ”

“Damn right you do, Benny boy.” Turning on his heel, Chewbacca walks back towards the mansion, muttering something about _‘goddamn Solos’_ and _‘attitude problems’_.

Ben chuckles, looking back towards the twins, who by some miracle, hadn’t noticed he was there yet. A smirk works its way across his face as he jumps behind a nearby statue, hiding himself from their view.

If you ever asked Ben if he liked watching the Palpatine kids as a part of his training duties, he would deny it. _Vehemently_. However, spending time with the kids was actually one of the best parts of his day.

He related to them; he knew their parents were just as busy, if not busier than his had ever been. Whenever they’d run up to him, yapping on and on about their studies—politics this, public relations that—his heart always went out to them. They never got time to actually be kids, always being prepped and primed for the day they’d have to take on the family name, and all the complications and headaches that came with it.

He knew that expectation _well._

So, from the moment he’d met the rambunctious twins and their little sister, he knew he’d do anything to give them just a little sliver of what he’d never got the chance to have as a child.

He got them into trouble, listened to their woes, and always let them know he’d be there if they needed to chat. The twins, Milo and Myka, took to him instantly, always vying for his attention—oftentimes competing with each other to get it.

Their younger sister, however, was a different story. Ben hadn’t spent a whole lot of time with Rey, aside from saying hello while passing through the kitchens.

Up until just recently, she’d been spending most of the time with Maz, the cook, and general overseer of the Palpatine mansion when Rory was off. She’d refused to be around anyone else for the longest time, but now that she was enrolled in lessons like the older two, she’d been coming out to play with them more and more often.

Ben smiles. Despite spending less time with her than the other two, he found himself especially determined to watch over Rey.

The twins were loud, insistent, and demanding in every way, always steamrolling over everything Rey said or did; and therein lied the problem.

Rey Palpatine was…she was soft-hearted. Timid, in a way. She did what her siblings said, but always with a look of hard steel in her hazel eyes, like she’d do it only to avoid the drama that would come if she didn’t.

Ben knew _that_ feeling, too.

“ _Miiiilooooooo!_ I told you to stop hitting my plane with yours! You’re gonna break it, just like you broke the other one!” Myka shouts, swatting at her brother’s plane, causing it to fly from his grasp to tumble onto the cobblestone pathway.

Milo huffs, balling his hands into angry fists.

“ _Mykaaaa,_ ” He mocks, rolling his eyes as he snatches his plane up off the ground. “You’re _supposed_ to hit the planes together. That’s what dog fighting _is_. Planes trying to get each other out of the sky!”

Myka crosses her arms, turning around in a huff. “Why can’t the planes have civil conversation in the sky? Huh? What would be so bad about that?”

Ben huffs a laugh at the girl’s words, covering his mouth in an effort to muffle it.

He’s too late, though.

Noticing the sound, the twins look at each other, sharing a grin before sneaking closer to Ben’s not-so-secret hiding spot.

He hears their shoes rustle against the stone walkway, and knows his goose is cooked. Making a split second decision, he leaps out from behind the ornate stone statue.

“BOO!” He yells, his voice deep and booming. Myka and Milo jump, both letting out shrill squeals as they all but tackle Ben in twin bear hugs.

“ _Ben!_ ” They squeal in unison. He chuckles while he pries their small, insistent arms off of him, smiling widely.

“How’d the lessons go today?” He asks, bracing for the tidal wave of words he knows is about to strike when the twins’ eyes light up in wonder.

It’s Milo that pipes up first.

“I started learning about field medicine today! Mama thinks I’ll be real good at it, since I picked up the material so quick…but I don’t know how I feel about the whole idea.”

Ben frowns at this. “No? Why’s that?”

Milo sighs. “I don’t like seeing people hurt, y’know? It makes me feel sad for them.” He frowns, his eyes shifting down as he pushes his lips to the side thoughtfully.

“You’d be helping them, though,” Myka offers. “If you were a field medic, you could help make everybody feel better, and be less sad!” The girl smiles at her brother, ruffling his hair.

“ _Myka!_ ” He quickly adjusts it back to normal.

“It’s true, you know. Medics are some of the bravest, most important people out on the field. They’re the ones that save lives,” Ben smiles warmly at the boy. “The real question though, is what do you want to do? Because despite what you think, you always have that choice.”

Milo tilts his head, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“I can _choose?_ ” He mulls over the words in his mouth. “I want to help people. I guess…there are lots of ways to do that, right?”

“Absolutely.” Ben smiles.

Milo grins, then, a spark lighting behind his green eyes, and Ben’s chest swells with pride for the child.

_I will never stop telling these kids how much potential they have, and how limitless their options are. Never._

He turns to Myka, who has her lips pressed inwards, and an eager twinkle in her green eyes as she quickly rocks back and forth on her heels. Ben chuckles.

“Something tells me you have something important to share?” Ben states with a smirk, and she bounces up onto the balls of her feet, nearly vibrating with excitement.

“I STARTED FORCE TRAINING TODAY!” A high pitched squeal explodes from the girl, and she holds out the toy plane in her flattened palm, shakily levitating it ever so slightly into the air. Ben smiles, his eyebrows raised as he nods approvingly at the girl.

_So much potential at such a young age._

“Wow, Myka, I’m impressed. Not many can actually move anything on their first day of training.” She beams widely at Ben’s words, her cheeks dusting pink. “I’m sure you’ll be a pro Force user in no time.”

“I hope so! Using the Force is so much fun!” She exclaims, and Ben pats her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at her enthusiasm.

“That may be so, but you gotta remember that being gifted with Force sensitivity also means you get the responsibility of using it correctly, and not abusing the power we’ve been gifted.”

Myka’s face steels, and she nods her head resolutely. “Oh, I know. General Chewbacca said the same thing. I definitely, _definitely_ won’t misuse the Force. Not ever!” She declares loudly, pushing her shoulders back in a strong, determined stance.

Ben tries his damndest not to laugh. He doesn’t want the girl to feel silly for being so passionate, but the uncharacteristically serious look on the nine year old’s face is almost too much.

Feeling his composure slipping when she heroically flips her blonde curls over her shoulder, Ben nods quickly, hastily looking away to hide the shadow of a smile on his lips.

“Hey, show me how to do that Force thingy!” Milo says excitedly, watching his sister with wide eyes.

The girl shakes her head, lifting her chin at him as she speaks. “Can’t. You’re not Force sensitive, _remember?_ ”

The boy pouts, wringing his hands together.

“Well…but can we try anyways?” He pleads, and Myka tilts her head sympathetically before grabbing his hand, and leading him away. They grin like the maniacs they are while they run, the wind rustling through their twin blonde curls.

Ben chuckles.

_Aaaaaand the seriousness is gone._

Watching the kids settle on the cobblestone path, Ben frowns, realizing they’re missing the littlest Palpatine sibling. Straightening, he roves his eyes over the grounds for the young girl; often known for wandering around to collect rocks, plants, and other little knick-knacks.

Unable to find her on the grounds, his frown deepens.

 _Where is she?_

Feeling a chill settle on the back of his neck, he takes long, quick strides over to the kids, before clearing his throat noisily.

“Rey with you guys, today? Or is she with Maz?” He asks, trying with much effort to keep the worry from his voice, but it still manages to leak through. Something is nagging at the back of his mind. Something is _off._

The twins share a wide eyed glance, and the guilt that begins to mar their faces does _not_ do anything to quell Ben’s rising concern.

“ _Well?_ ” He says, a little more sharply than he intended, causing Milo to wince, and Myka to shoot him a sheepish glance. Ben clenches his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing.

_Damn it all._

“We…kind of forgot about her.” Myka says, her fearful eyes shooting to Milo, whose hand is covering his mouth—in shock or horror, Ben isn’t sure.

“She’s still in the maze.” The boy says, grabbing his sister’s hand. Ben whips his head towards the large, ornately carved wooden walls that house the succulent maze that Rey is most likely lost in.

“What if she couldn’t find her way out?” Milo whispers urgently. Ben shakes his head, letting out a long, deep sigh.

“I’ll find her. You two need to go inside and let Maz know what’s happened, that I’m dealing with it, and that I’ll page Chew— _General Chewbacca_ —if I need backup. Got it?” His voice is stern, something the twins are not used to from him. They nod solemnly.

“We’re really sorry, Ben. She doesn’t usually play with us, so we didn’t remember she was there, too.” Myka says softly, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Ben softens at this, patting Myka’s shoulder, nudging the two down the cobblestone path, and towards the mansion doors.

“I’m sorry, I know it was an accident. I’m sure everything will be just fine.” Ben says with an attempted smile, but it’s stiffer than usual, and the twins notice. “Go inside, okay? Everything is going to be alright.” His chest tightens at his words, vaguely aware that he’s not only speaking them to reassure the twins.

Milo grabs his sister’s hand, tugging her along towards the front doors, and Ben feels his heart hammer in his chest as he takes careful steps towards the garden maze.

As soon as the twins are out of sight, he breaks into a dead run.

_Please be safe._

The Force flutters anxiously around his torso—attempting to guide him to Rey—but Ben is too worked up to realize the intent of it. He stills when he enters the maze, his eyes flickering left and right as he listens for any sounds that would indicate she was still lost in it.

Birds chirp in the trees, and the wind rustles their leaves. He hears a faint buzzing from somewhere, but he narrows his eyes when a soft sound catches in his ears.

A small, choked whimper.

Panic rises thickly in his throat, and the force curls around him comfortingly, coaxing Ben to be calm before he goes in after her. His shoulders drop as he breathes deeply, closing his eyes to focus on the direction the sound is coming from.

In his mind’s eye, a thin, glowing red string appears. It floats in mid-air, moving faintly, as though it were alive somehow. Ben presses his lips into a thin line.

_Well, that’s…odd._

He focuses in on it, and the Force flickers along his hand.

 _Complete the connection._ It whispers through his mind.

He frowns at this, unsure of what he’s supposed do with the Force’s vague instructions. But when he hears another whimper in the distance, he decides now isn’t the time to question things.

Tentatively lowering his mental shields, he reaches out, barely touching the pad of his finger to the thin string before recoiling when he is hit with an absolute cacophony of emotions.

Anger, pain, confusion, concern, loneliness, frustration. But the most potent of all of them screams at him from across the string; madly shouting and thrashing about.

_Fear._

Worry grips at his chest, and he focuses in on the thin piece of thread. Visualizing it in front of him, he follows the pull of the Force as he sends gentle pulses of calm and comfort down the line. He hopes little Rey can feel them; that they help her.

As he runs through the maze, the buzz of panic running across the string is silenced momentarily, interrupted by a whisper so small, and so soft that he almost doesn’t catch it.

 _“Hewwo…?”_ The five year old’s thought teeters uncertainly on the edge of his mind. Even with her hesitance, he feels the flutter of hope that shimmies down the string, and his eyes widen, a combination of shock and awe coursing through him.

Last time he checked, hearing other people’s thoughts wasn’t exactly a normal occurrence. Shaking his head, he zeroes in on the taut red line in between them, focusing his thoughts to travel across it, and to Rey.

 _“Stay where you are, alright little one? It’s Ben. I’m on my way to help you.”_ He sends across the string, desperately hoping it reaches the girl, despite his instincts telling him it will.

Sensing he’s getting close to finding her, a burst of adrenaline courses through him, carrying his long legs across the gravel, and through the rows of beautifully ornate succulent plants. His breath burns in his lungs as he barrels through the maze, darting left and right through the twists and turns of the wooden planters, his muscles straining as he follows the string that connects them both.

The Force whips wildly around him, and he slows his pace. He’s close, and he knows it. Bristling as he hears another low whimper—much clearer this time—he quickly jogs towards the sound.

And when he turns the last corner, he finally finds her; halfway caught up in a bush, and crouched low to the ground with her hands clasped in front of her body protectively.

_There you are._

He sighs with relief as he takes in her small form, her clothes half strung up in the branches, holding her body at a clearly uncomfortable angle.

Slowly approaching as not to scare her, he purposefully scratches the ground with his shoe. Rey attempts to raise her head up when she hears him, and Ben’s heart constricts when he sees the tears leaking steadily out of her wide hazel eyes, staining her cherubic cheeks.

“B-Ben? I need h-hewp.” She hiccups through quiet sniffles. The teen nods, drawing closer to her then, this eyes searching for any injuries that could be inflicted on the five year old.

He scans left and right, his eyes narrowing as they fall to her knees, where the skin of her kneecaps has been deeply scraped. Ben winces as he sees the blood dripping from her wound.

Rey lets out a shaky breath and a quiet keen, pulling Ben out of his concern as he kneels down on the ground.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now, alright? I’ve got you.” His tone is gentle—gentler than he’d ever spoken to anyone—and he reaches a hand out to help her up.

Pouting, she tries to shake her head, the tears welling up in her eyes once more when she lets out a choked sob.

“I-I’m ‘tuck. My h-haiw is ‘tuck.” She says, gesturing to the three buns on back of her head, the bottom one twisted up in a branch, pulling at the base of her skull. Ben lets a gentle smile pull at his lips.

“I’m going to reach back to get your hair outta there. That okay?” He asks, and with a shaky nod, she wipes a sniffle from her nose. He hates seeing her like this.

Rey should never _ever_ cry again. It hurts his heart too much.

His resolve on the matter strengthens as he takes in her puffy red eyes, still gleaming with a stubborn steel despite her predicament.

_I’ll make sure she doesn’t. I’ll keep her safe._

Carefully reaching a hand back to free her chestnut strands from the bush, he gently works her hair out of the branch, using the Force to get some of the trickier pieces unstuck. The last thing he wants is to cause her any more pain than she’d already had to endure.

Ben lets out a breath as the pieces loosen, and sets to work on the loop of fabric caught up in the twigs and leaves.

“How’d you get tangled up in here?” He asks, his fingers working deftly to unravel the back of her shirt from the bush without damaging it.

Rey sniffles, sighing deeply as she lifts her cupped hands to Ben, her doe eyes glimmering with remnants of her tears.

Frowning, he stops his work and leans back onto his heels; watching as she slowly, delicately takes the top hand away, revealing a young bluebird laying still in her hands.

Ben’s heart sinks to the bottom of his gut, screaming out for the poor girl, who probably has no idea that the bird no longer lives.

“The biwdy needed hewp. He was ‘tuck in the bush…he was _cwyin’_.” She looks down at the bird with a furrowed brow. “I twied to get him, but I twipped.” A pause, interrupted by another sniffle as her voice lowers to an even softer tone. “He’s huwt. I wanna make him bettew.”

Ben feels his mouth go absolutely dry, and he briefly considers calling Chewie for backup—not that he would be any better at handling this situation—but at least he wouldn’t have to try and explain _death_ to a _five year old_ by himself. Taking a deep breath, he smiles sadly at Rey, who is tenderly petting the bird’s head with a feather soft touch.

 _This is going to break her heart. I can’t do this._ He flattens his lips into a thin line. He knows he has to. At the very least, he’ll be able to break the news gently.

“Rey…the bird is dead, sweetheart.”

She gasps, the tears quickly gathering in her wide, horror stricken eyes as she looks down at the bird, her lower lip trembling. Ben clenches his jaw, his mind reeling while he grasps at straws, trying to figure out how to make it better, even though he knows he can’t.

 _Damn it, Solo. Gentle! You needed to be fucking_ gentle _you absolute porg_.

Rey lets out a broken, quiet whine as she continues to pet the bird with her now shaking hand. Ben grits his teeth, putting up mental blocks as he feels the trickling grief and panic start to seep through into his mind.

Gingerly placing his hand on the back of her shoulder, he pats gently in hopes that the gesture helps assuage her sadness. He’s pretty sure he’s going to break if she keeps crying. Her sadness guts him in a way he isn’t sure he understands.

Rey takes a shaky breath, and that stubborn steel coats her eyes once more. Her small, pudgy fingers still over the feathered animal as her facial features tense, her eyes hyper-focusing on the bird briefly until she scrunches them shut.

Ben frowns, watching as the girl in front of him begins to tremble.

“ _No._ Biwdy’s _not_ gone.” She grunts, squeezing her eyes even tighter still as she cradles it softly in her hands. Ben stares wide eyed at Rey, and with bated breath, he watches as the bird flutters its wing. His throat goes dry.

_That’s impossible._

At least, he thinks it’s impossible. There’s no way a little five year old could possibly be using Force healing! The technique was so advanced, and so difficult to master, that there were only five people in recorded history that were able to use it. No, it couldn’t be. Not when it typically took _decades_ of training. His brow creases. Rey hadn’t even _started_ force training yet, as far as he was aware.

He watches the bird with careful eyes, unsure whether he should be hoping for the bird to stay dead, or come alive. On one hand, Rey would be happy if the bird lived—and he desperately wants that—but on the other hand… _yeah._

Ben really hopes the bird stays dead.

Rey might be heartbroken for a few days, and it would be horrible. _Heartbreaking_ , even. However, he would rather that than her freedom be stolen away because she’s a prodigy Force user.

His jaw clenches when he imagines her being toted around like some trophy child, always having to live up to her _‘potential’_. No kid deserved that. His frown deepens. He doesn’t want her to have to give up her childhood over something she isn’t able to control—not that she’ll be able to have much of one anyways, with who her parents are—but still.

A little is better than nothing. This, he knows very well.

Ben inhales sharply as the bird begins breathing, its chest moving up and down in Rey’s hands. The girl lets out a soft, relieved laugh as the bird jumps up in her tiny palm, rubbing its head against her little thumb before flying away, fully healed.

The colour leaks from Ben’s face as he sits, totally frozen as his thoughts race madly through his mind.

_This can’t happen. Not to her. Especially not to her._

Rey lifts her head up, her eyes fluttering opening, and a wide grin splitting across her face as she watches the bird sail through the skies. She lifts her hand to wave a small goodbye to the resurrected creature, but when she lowers her arm, Ben’s eyes narrow, taking immediate notice as she sways ever so slightly, her arm trembling as she lowers it. Horror slices through him then, sharper than any knife ever could.

_That was not Force healing._

Not Force healing, but something even worse, something potentially life-threatening: _she’d given some of her life energy to the bird._

Force healing and energy sharing are _very_ different things. Sharing life energy is dangerous, and almost unheard of. Ben swallows thickly. The ramifications of Rey being able to energy share are much worse than if she’d simply been a Force prodigy.

 _So_ much worse.

If anyone figures out that Rey is capable of this…forget being placed on a pedestal and robbed of a normal childhood—this would place a big fat target on her back that she’d have to live with her whole life. Ben lets out a shaky breath.

Many people fear energy sharing, seeing it as unnatural, and even going so far as to believe it’s sacrilege against the Maker and the Force altogether. Ben gnaws on his lower lip. He needs to talk to Chewie about this.

But first, he has to make sure she never attempts this _ever_ again. It’s imperative that she knows just how dangerous energy sharing is. Rey giggles, slumping onto her back as her eyes grow lost in the blue expanse of the sky.

“The biwdy’s famiwy wouwda been sad if he nevew came back.” She’s breathing more heavily than she should be; and Ben knows he should be taking her inside to see Maz, like _right the hell now_. But he just sits, dumbstruck, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his thoughts run absolutely rampant, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

He has no idea how he’s going to explain this to a five year old. Will she even understand that what she did could have killed her? Will she even _care?_ He feels a thin layer of sweat beginning to gather at his hairline.

Ben has no idea what he’s doing. _No goddamn idea_ —and he’s really not used to that.

He always knows, or at least has an idea of what he’s going to do. He’s a planner…but this? He’s flying absolutely stark blind, and it’s sending him into a frenzy.

_Screw it. I’m just gonna go for it._

He’s not sure it’s the best idea, but it’s all he’s got. Adjusting his position, he sits down fully in the grass, propping one knee up to rest his arm on, his fingers unconsciously twitching with anxiety.

“Rey, it’s good that you saved the bird, but—” She grins widely.

“ _I know!_ I did gwood. Vewy gwood. Mama will be sooooo _pwoud!_ ” She claps her hands together excitedly, and Ben winces.

He’s not sure he should even tell Rey’s parents. Though they’re good people, they don’t have much time for their kids, meaning they would have to inform other people of Rey’s ability. Ben nods absently at the girls words, dragging a heavy hand down his chin.

The Palpatine family is as close to royalty as you can get on Jakku, and as such, their responsibilities are _endless_. They help run the council, they handle public relations with surrounding countries, and most importantly, they are the peacekeepers. The protectors, and figureheads of the country, and unfortunately, all that comes with those heavy titles leaves very little time and energy left for children. Ben scowls.

Depending on who exactly they choose inform, it could end very badly. Thanks to his dad’s work stories, Ben knows all too well that there are too many people out there that would pay a lot of money to get their hands on an energy sharer. A shudder rips through him.

 _Not Rey._ He would make sure of that.

People in positions like this shouldn’t even _have_ children. Not if they’re just going to ignore them all the damn time, and _especially_ not if they’re going to unwittingly put them in danger.

He shakes his head, opening his mouth to tell Rey how unsafe her actions were, but as his dark eyes shift to the girl, he stills.

She’s already looking at him, her round, chubby cheeks losing their colour as she smiles peacefully.

“Thanks Ben. Fow savin’ me.” Her head shifts back to the sky, and her eyes close. “You did gwood…youw a gwood boy, Ben.” She says quietly— _too quietly_ —and it’s then that Ben notices the blood still steadily leaking from her kneecaps. Panic grips his throat, digging its claws in as he jumps to his feet.

 _Shit._ He’d forgotten about that.

“We’d better get you patched up there, pipsqueak.” He hopes the panic he’s feeling doesn’t leak into his voice.

Bending over, he extends a dirt-smudged hand to her, and he can’t suppress his smile when she gingerly takes it. The smile is short lived though, when he realizes she lacks the strength to pull herself up.

“You’re hurt, Rey. I’m gonna carry you, alright?” She frowns at this, retracting her hand, and crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“ _No._ I can wawk by mysewf. I’m a big guwl.” She says, still lying flat on her back. Ben pinches the bridge of his nose between his finger and his thumb.

“Yes, you are a big girl—very capable—but you also need help really badly, just like the bird did. I’m going to help you, okay?”

“ _NO!_ I. AM. OWKAY.” She huffs, looking away from Ben as she toys with her tiny fingers.

Ben raises his eyebrows, fighting his amusement at the situation tooth and nail. He knows if he cracks a smirk, the attitude will never end.

 _Who knew little Rey had such a temper?_ He muses. Then again, he supposes that the steel in her eyes isn’t for nothing.

“Well, either I carry you, or you faint in the gravel, and I’m not gonna wait around for that. So, up you go, pipsqueak!” Ben reaches down, grasping her under the armpits to lift her to his chest, and despite her clear fatigue, she does not come up without a fight.

Rey lets herself go absolutely boneless, sticking her arms straight in the air, making it very difficult for Ben to keep a grip on the girl.

Somehow, he manages, maneuvering her so that she’s sitting princess style in his arms. He looks down, sighing at the willful girl in his arms, and frowning when he notices the blood from her knees smeared across his shirt.

With a loud huff, she crosses her arms, begrudgingly accepting her fate as her face scrunches into a deep frown—one that Ben thinks is way too cute to be effective—but he doesn’t dare tell her that.

With a quiet chuckle, he begins to jog through the maze, not missing the way little Rey subtly turns into his arms, letting out a broken sigh, her frown never wavering. He smiles, then.

_The kid is way too cute for her own good._


	4. Scratches and Band-Aids (2005)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ben carefully patches up Rey's knees, Rey gives Ben a stylin' new hair-do, and Rory the Ultimate Grandma(TM) makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! Life got busy. It happens. *shrugs*  
>  Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fluff-filled chapter, because it's gonna get real angsty pretty quick!
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to Morrigan's Muse, and [LauraNightingale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460983/chapters/53669302), who beta'd this chapter for me! Your help and insight is truly invaluable to me, and I greatly appreciate the time you spend reading over my work! <3
> 
> Another giant thank you to [Ksco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ksco/pseuds/Ksco), who made me this beautiful moodie!! I love it so much!

* * *

Rey is not amused, not impressed, and _very_ frustrated. 

So she scraped her knee— _big deal._ It’s not like she hasn’t done worse before, with _so_ much less attention than she’s getting right now. She clenches her tiny fists, huddling into Ben’s chest.

_Big dumb Ben-head. I don’t need any stupid help._

She doesn’t even want to look at him, but she thinks he’s very warm. And warm is nice, warm is comforting.

Something she doesn’t get from many people.

In fact, she can count those people on one hand. Mazzy for sure, and maybe sometimes Uncle Chewie. The warmest person she knows is her grandma, Rory. Rey smiles at the thought of the older woman. She gives the best hugs, makes the best food, and always, _always_ makes time for her.

Rey just wishes she didn’t have to be away for work as often as she is. Her grandma says it’s to keep everybody safe from the bad guys, but Rey’s never even seen a bad guy, so it must not be _that_ bad.

_Gramma Rory needs to take a buncha days off. Then we could have some girl time for once._

Aside from those few—but cherished—people, she’s on her own, and always has been. She knows that Myka and Milo are a big handful, and that her mama and papa don’t mean to pay less attention to her. She just doesn’t demand it, or need it like the other two do.

At least, that’s what Mazzy says.

Sometimes, she thinks she _should_ demand it, instead of trying so hard to be good all the time. Rey smiles softly at the memory of the bird, how she fixed him, and how he flew off into the sky. She purses her lips.

_Maybe Mama will like me better if I help more birdies._

Her chest blooms with warmth at that. She _really_ hopes her mama and papa give her big hugs for helping the small creature.

Feeling the top of her head prickle, she gets the feeling she’s being watched. With narrowed eyes, the girl slowly turns her head to look up at Ben, and sure enough, she catches him softly smiling down at her. Immediately, her eyes soften.

This should irritate her. It should make her annoyed, and grouchy…but somehow, under his gaze, her comfort only grows, and she quickly turns away.

She knows, absolutely, that she’s safe with him.

Even if he’s being a big dumb-head right now.

Rey wrinkles her nose, her eyelids growing heavy as she lets herself be lulled by the back and forth motion of being carried in Ben’s arms. Faintly, she hears a sharp intake of breath, and his paces become faster, more frantic.

“I’m owkay. Fixin’ the biwdy made me sweepy I think.” She mutters into his chest, feeling his heartbeat thump steadily against her ear. She likes that. It reminds her of when she was smaller, and more important.

She frowns as one of Ben’s fingers pokes at the underside of her kneecap—rekindling the pain from her fall—and she lets out a high keen, her face twisting into a grimace.

“ _Dooon’t._ ” She whines.

“Sorry, Pipsqueak. You need to stay awake, okay? Don’t go to sleep, whatever you do.” Ben says, something in his tone that Rey can’t quite decipher. Was he… _scared?_

Rey frowns at this. “But I’m _tiewed_.”

“I know. Just wait until we get to Maz, okay? Gotta patch up your knee, and make sure you’re alright after helping the bird.”

Rey’s eyes brighten at this, feeling excitement bubble and swirl inside her belly at the idea of seeing Maz, and telling her about how she helped the small animal.

She nods, before yawning widely. “’Kay. Gonna stay awake fow Mazzy.”

Ben laughs softly at her, and the sound makes Rey’s small mouth curve into a smile. Ben’s laugh is a good sound, too. A thought occurs to her then, loud and clear in the back of her mind.

_Ben-head is good grown up. Ben-head helped when I cried._

Her smile grows wider as she weakly wraps her arms as far around his chest as they can go, humming contentedly to herself as, again, a low chuckle rumbles in Ben’s chest.

Something warm and fuzzy winds around her small form then, softly caressing at the back of her head. Liking the feel of it, she nuzzles the presence back with her own, welcoming its comfort as it tells her with soft circles how safe she is with Ben.

“Ben is swafe. Thanks, Ben.” She says, giggling lightly as the wispy presence tickles her side softly before fluttering off into the breeze. She vaguely recognizes entering the mansion before Ben adjusts her in his arms, and her head is resting on top of his shoulder while he pats her back reassuringly.

“Always, Pipsqueak.”

* * *

“ _What in all hells is this, Solo?”_ Maz Kanata nods towards the girl in his arms. Ben gulps. “First you send me the twin terrors when _you’re_ supposed to be watching them, and now you bring Rey in with bloodied knees?! _Explain_.”

Maz mutters menacingly, waving her wooden spoon at Ben, accidentally splattering him with some sort of sauce as she huffs at the chaos that is her kitchen.

Ben rolls his eyes, pointedly glancing at the twins, who are currently arguing back and forth about who gets to pour croutons in a salad bowl, a few strays tumbling out of the bag they’re currently playing tug-o’-war with, and skittering across the floor.

“Ah, see, that wasn’t really my fault. The twins left Rey in the succulent maze by accident, so I went to find her. When I did, her knee was already bloody.”

Ben deliberately leaves out the energy sharing. For now, anyway. He still isn’t sure what he should say about that, if anything at all. Truthfully, he’s scared for the girl.

“And why are you only bringing her in _now?_ The twins have been here for over twenty minutes!” Maz’s narrowed eyes soften when she takes in a very sheepish Rey peeking over Ben's shoulder.

“Sowwy Mazzy. I was bein' stubbown,” She sniffles, rubbing the back of her hand against her eye. “It’s not Ben-head's fawlt.” The cook's gaze turns even gentler, and Ben bends down so that Maz can tuck a strand of hair behind the child's ear.

“Ben-head, huh?” Her eyes shift to Ben's. “She must like you, kid. She doesn’t give nicknames to just anybody.”

He chuffs a laugh, and Rey huddles back into the crook of his neck, hiding a pleased smile from Maz.

“That true, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, and Rey nods her head against Ben's shoulder. “And _Ben-head_ is what you managed to come up with?” He says with a chuckle, carefully pulling her away from his chest to set her on one of the clean countertops.

Rey’s eyes glint with mischief, and she grins, nodding towards his hair.

“Yep! ‘Cause youw haiw wooks wike you just got outta bed. So youw Ben-head!”

Ben blinks at the girl, unsure what to even say to that.

_Burned by a five-year-old. Nice._

Maz cackles loudly from the other side of the kitchen, clearly taking great joy out of the exchange, and Ben's face turns red with embarrassment.

“She’s got ya there, Ben. Your hair is a right mess most days, not that you can help it. Ya got your father’s double crown.” She turns to grin in Ben’s direction, before going back to her meal prep.

Ben rolls his eyes, dramatically running his hands through his inky black hair, which only serves to mess it up even more.

“ _Better?_ ” He asks dryly. Rey giggles loudly, and Ben shakes his head with a smile.

“Yeah, wooks good _Ben-head_.” She giggles.

Ben raises his eyebrows at her, letting his face fall forward in a deadpanned expression, and Rey laughs wildly, sending little bell chime bubbles of laughter into the air.

Unable to contain his smile, the Force flutters in the air around the boy, carefree, like it’s laughing along with Rey as it swirls around him.

Chuckling, he turns his attention back to her wounds, reaching up to grab a clean cloth from one of the cupboards.

Quickly wetting it with warm water, he makes eye contact with Rey, only to find her watching him with curious eyes. He clears his throat.

“I have to clean up your knees, okay? There’s a bunch of dirt in there,” A pause, and Ben shoots her a sympathetic look. “It might sting a little.”

She nods firmly, her little hands squeezing the edge of the counter until her tanned knuckles go white, and Ben quickly, but carefully, rolls up the girl’s ruined leggings to just over her knee.

Taking a breath, he braces himself—he really doesn’t want to see her in pain—and gently begins wiping the dirt and pieces of cloth out of the girl’s knee, his chest tightening whenever her face scrunches in a wince while he cleans the blood from her skin.

As he sets to work on the other knee, it occurs to him that she hasn’t even let out a squeak, even though she’s clearly in pain. He smirks to himself.

_What a tough little cookie._

“Just a little more, and then we’ll put the medicine on.” He says, quiet as patting her shoulder reassuringly.

Rey un-scrunches one of her eyes to look at Ben, her hands still gripping the counter for dear life.

“And the bandwaid?” She peers up at him, and Ben smiles, nodding.

“And the Band-Aid.”

Rey grins, turning her head towards Maz, who is chuckling to herself as she cuts up some vegetables. Of course she would find this hilarious _._

“Maaaaazzy, do you have the pwetty cowouwed ones?” Rey calls, swinging her feet over the edge of the counter.

Maz looks over her shoulder to Rey, and she furrows her eyebrows before raising a wrinkled finger to her lips, tapping twice.

After a moment of suspense, the older woman grins widely.

“Oh, little Rey of sunshine. You know I always have the pretty ones saved for you,” She laughs through her nose, pushing her glasses further up on her nose as she gives Ben the side eye. “Lord knows they’d be wasted on you boys.”

He rumbles a laugh at that, nodding his head with a shrug of his shoulders. Still chuckling, Maz reaches for a drawer, pulling out a small bag of rainbow coloured Band-Aids. Rey squeals, clapping her hands.

“Yaaaaay! Can you wuse a gween one, _puh-weeeease?_ ” Rey looks expectantly at Ben as he manages to get the last of the gunk out of Rey’s kneecap.

He can’t help the utter relief that floods his mind at Rey’s quickly brightening demeanor. Even her face has more colour in it than it did when she was in the maze. He released a relieved breath from his lungs, watching as the girl looks down at her knee expectantly.

It was like the energy she used resuscitating the bird is building itself back up. He lets a small smile flit across his lips as he picks a pink Band-Aid from the bag, waving it in front of a giggling Rey.

“This one, right?”

“Noooooo! The _gween_ one!”

Ben chuckles, grabbing a green Band-Aid from the bag to pass to Rey, who is studying her kneecaps with an intense gaze.

“Everything alright, Pipsqueak?” He asks, opening several drawers until he finally finds the one holding the antibacterial salve. Snatching it out, he bumps the drawer closed with his hip, and walks back to Rey, who is still inspecting her injuries.

Ben nudges her arm, gesturing at her knees. “Kinda gross looking, huh?”

Rey looks at Ben with a scrunched nose.

“Wooks wike I have waw meat on my knees. _Yuuuck_.” She says, her lips pressing into a thin line as Ben gets to work applying the salve.

“ _Ooooooh_ , Maz! Can we go look at Rey’s knees? She skinned ‘em real good. Do you think they’re gonna scar?” Myka asks excitedly, earning an elbow to the side from her brother.

“That’s rude, Myka.” He mutters, the bag of croutons gripped tightly in his hands.

Maz shakes her head while she walks over to the twins, turning them back around to focus on preparing the salad.

“For two kids who haven’t even managed to get the croutons in the salad bowl, you ask a lot of questions. Now, hurry it up, or I’ll make it for you, and if I _do_ , you’re not gonna like what goes in it.” Maz smirks when the twins share a look of wide-eyed horror.

They quickly dump the croutons and the rest of the ingredients into the bowl, stirring frantically.

“Sorry, Maz.” They say in unison.

Ben shoots the woman a questioning look, and Rey snickers, a knowing glint to her hazel eyes.

“If they don’t do theiw jobs, Mazzy puts ‘tink beetows in theiw fwood.”

Ben snorts, shaking his head at Maz. He has no doubt that she’d do it, too. _‘Just a little extra protein!’_ She’d say—he’s sure of it.

“You’re relentless.” He mutters out with a click of his tongue.

“Hey, you don’t fix what ain’t broke, kiddo.” She says with a laugh, dropping a pile of chopped vegetables into her soup pot, steam billowing up as a low sizzling fills the room.

After applying the salve, Ben sticks his hand out towards Rey. He smiles when she hands him the Band-Aid, only to snatch it back as he reaches for it.

“I’ll put a pink one on if you don’t give it.” His voice reflects the playful glint in his eyes, and Rey blows a raspberry at him, dropping the atrociously bright, square shaped bandage into his waiting hand. Carefully, he applies it to her knee, smoothing it over with his fingers to make sure it sticks.

He draws back after he’s finished, and Rey grins, sticking her leg out to admire Ben’s work, nearly kicking him in the face as she does it, but he dodges the offending limb just in time.

“Alright Pipsqueak. Same colour for the other knee?” Turning her attention to Ben, she frowns, pursing her lips in thought before shaking her head. She points at Ben’s hair.

“I wanna bwack one! Wike Ben-head’s haiw!” She grins widely at the confusion in Ben’s eyes, nodding her head firmly. Ben stands still as a statue, with absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

 _Like…my hair?_

He furrows his brow, unable to help the affection that blooms at the girl’s odd request. He thinks he’s decided that the request is rather cute, and he digs through the back to find the requested colour. He smiles widely when he sees one, plucking it from the bag and giving it to Rey for inspection.

“Is this acceptable?” He asks, smirking at the way she gingerly assesses the bandage, flipping it over in her hands before nodding curtly, and handing it back to him.

“Yup. It’s puhwfect.” She reaches out, gathering Ben’s hair into a ponytail at the top of his head as he places the other bandage over her knee, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter as her tiny fingers run through his hair.

“Mazzy, you got a ‘lastic? Gonna make Ben-head have a pwetty haiw-dew.” With a wry smile, the cook pulls a bright pink hair tie from her pocket, dangling it in front of Ben’s face before Rey snatches it up with excited fingers.

Ben isn’t sure whether he should be amused or terrified at the notion, and when the first yank of his hair comes, he grits his teeth, trying very hard to remain optimistic as he puts pressure on the second bandage, securing it in place while the girl in front of him giggles madly, twisting and pulling at his wavy locks.

“Awwww, you wook _sooo nice_ with a pwetty bahwerina bun, Ben-head!” Rey teases with a tongue-in-teeth smile.

The twins giggle in the background, and Maz is doing a very poor job of suppressing her laughter as she watches the two fondly, amused that Ben is letting Rey turn his hair into a disaster-piece of epic proportions in the first place.

“Oh yes, Ben. It’s very—” A snort. “— _becoming._ You should have little Rey do your hair _every_ morning. _”_

Maz snickers as she pours the sauce in with the vegetables, and with an excited gasp from Rey, Ben feels dread pool deep in his gut.

“ _Can I_ , Ben-head?!” Her high pitched squeal has Ben letting out a soft groan.

How in the hell is he going to get out of this? He looks up, meeting her eyes, and he regrets the action immediately.

There Rey sits, hands clasped in front of her chest with quite possibly the biggest, most adorable puppy-dog pout Ben has ever seen.

_How is anyone supposed to say no to that?!_

He gulps, looking frantically to Maz for help, but not surprisingly, finding absolutely none.

“Yeah, can she? Better yet, you should teach her how to braid! I remember Leia telling me you’re quite good at it.” Maz quips, grinning mischievously while stirring the pot—both figuratively, and literally.

With a sense of doom over his head, Ben realizes he really has no choice in the matter. He sighs loudly, dreading the days to come. Chewie and Poe are never gonna let him hear the end of this.

“Only on Tuesdays, okay, Pipsqueak?”

At least if it was on his day off, he could play dead to the world if need be.

“Yesssss!” She hisses, the impish look in her eyes not helping Ben’s futile attempt to be optimistic. _Not at all._

 _Yeah, not adorable. Terrifying. That’s what this is_.

* * *

Rory walks slowly through the light blue halls of her home, trying with great effort to not be irritated by the nattering of her daughter and son-in-law.

She _had_ been heading towards the kitchen, eager to have a chat with Maz, who she hadn’t seen for a while, but her daughter and son-in-law had tracked her down before she could get away.

“Look, I know this conference in Alderra is important, I really do, but you’re working _so_ much, and I know you’re tired, Mom. I can see it in your eyes,” Senna’s brow creases when she rests a careful palm on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m just worried about you.”

Rory sighs deeply, reaching up to touch her daughter’s hand, cradling it with her own. Truth be told, Rory is tired. She’s _incredibly_ tired, and all she really wants to do is rest, and spend time with her family.

But this damn proposal about the Knights of Organa being brought back to Alderaan, and out of the other countries they protect…she can’t allow it to happen.

Jakku, despite its growth over the last forty odd years, is still a very poor country that hasn’t fully recovered from the horrors that the First Order reaped upon them.

They have little military prowess, and yes, they do have a great number of Force users in their ranks, but there are many that refuse use it; the fear of persecution ingrained so deeply in them that the thought of using their gifts sets loose a fear that consumes them, controls them.

In many ways, the First Order is still alive and well, even if their members aren’t physically present, and for that reason, it’s imperative that the Knights of Organa stay put exactly where they are.

If other countries want to be rid of their services, fine. Let them leave. But Jakku needs them, not only to help keep the peace among its deeply damaged people, but also to foster a sense of safety, and of hope, so these people and this land can continue working towards healing.

If she’s not there to fight for their country’s needs, it won’t happen. Leia would fight tooth and nail to keep them deployed, but her word wouldn’t go far with the elders on the Resistance council—not because Leia isn’t capable, but because she’s young, which she thinks is a stupid reason. Leia could easily run circles around them, and Rory would very much like to remind the old coots just how young _they_ were when they started the Resistance in the first place.

But she knows that would only fan the flames.

“You know I have to go, Senna. If not only for the people, then for you, Jarek, and the kids. Someone needs to advocate for Jakku, and sadly, that responsibility now falls to me.” Rory clasps Senna’s hand, and Jarek clears his throat.

“We could help, you know. I know it’s been difficult since Dad passed away, but if you teach us what to say, and how to handle the Resistance council, maybe we could—”

Rory cuts Jarek off, putting a delicate hand in the air, as if telling him to stop.

“I know you both would step in for me if you could, and I love you both dearly for that, but this proposal is something I’ll have to handle on my own.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “The Windu family is already pushing hard to disband the Resistance altogether, and if the Knights get pulled out of their stations, that’s the first step to them getting what they want.” Rory breathes, nearing the kitchen doors.

Senna and Jarek exchange a concerned look.

“Well, but as wonderful as the Resistance is, I think it’s not really necessary anymore…think about it, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of the First Order for over forty years,” Senna eyes her mother carefully. “Maybe disbanding the Resistance isn’t such a bad idea. We’re in a time of peace now, and we don’t really need to waste resour—”

Rory scoffs quietly. “I’m not having this discussion with you right now, Sen. I understand this is coming from a place of care and love, but I am perfectly capable of handling this myself, thank you—and _I_ will decide when enough is enough. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to talk to my friend.” She huffs, before taking a deep breath, and walking through the kitchen door.

Much to her dismay, they follow her.

_Kriff almighty, they act like I’m decrepit and senile. I’m only sixty-three, for Maker’s sake!_

The Force flies around her, amused, and she rolls her eyes as it curls into her, reassuring in the way that it gently settles over the necklace that rests against her collarbone, like it’s always done since Arnu passed away.

She smiles at that, her frustration lifting as she looks around for her friend in the large kitchen, a grin taking over her features when she notices her grandkids are here, too.

When Rory’s eyes find Maz’s, they communicate their woes to each other with a flicks of an eyebrow, the rolling of eyes, a click of the tongue, and a quirk of the lips.

_Ah, so the twins were helping in the kitchen again._

Rory chuckles. She doesn’t envy her friend on days like this. Not even a little bit.

The woman loves her grandchildren deeply, but the twins…they can be several handfuls. She snorts. Much like their mom and uncle were.

Before she even has the chance to look in their directions, the rambunctious children are already on her in a bone crushing hug.

“Gramma!” They yell in unison, nuzzling into her arms.

“Hello, my little twin terrors. Have you been behaving for Old Lady Maz?” She whispers, lifting her head to wink at her friend as she says it.

“Listen here, you keep that up, and I’ll put stink beetles in your salad, too!” She chides, smirking before going back to whatever heaven she’s cooking up in that pot.

Rory used to at least try to help with the cooking, but by the Maker, Maz is a _genius_ with flavours, and she wasn’t super into having a sous chef. But Rory wasn’t about to let the opportunity to eat Maz’s food every day slip through her fingers, and her friend was only too happy to oblige.

“Fine by me, you know I could use the extra protein.” Rory says with a smile, releasing the twins, and pushing them back towards their station by the salad bowl. She grins when she sees Senna and Jarek follow them.

Hopefully they’ll be distracted enough by Myka and Milo to stay off her tail.

Maz rolls her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Said pot to kettle.”

“Don’t think I won’t quit!”

Rory scoffs loudly, waving her hand in dismissal. “Awww, but think of how much you’d miss me!”

“Less and less, every day.” Maz says wistfully, before they both dissolve into a fit of giggles. Rory walks over to her, sliding an arm around her thin shoulders in a quick hug.

“Missed you, Spazzy Mazzy.”

“Likewise, Ratty Rory.”

She grins at the old childhood nicknames, but her attention is pulled away when someone tugs on the hem of her shirt. Turning, she absolutely beams when she sees little Rey standing before her, neon bandages on her kneecaps, and stars in her eyes.

The small girl is vibrating with so much excitement, she might explode. Rory chuckles. She’d never admit it to anyone else—playing favourites with your grandchildren is highly frowned upon, you know—but the youngest Palpatine has always held a special place in her heart.

Rey reminds her of her late husband in personality, but in looks, she could be Rory’s double, aside from her eyes, which house a little of her own deep brown, and a little of Arnu’s captivating green.

“She fidgets just like you do,” A deep rumble sounds in her ear, and her breath hitches when Arnu’s Force ghost appears at her side, smiling serenely at the small girl. “But she has my tenacity.”

_I must have really been missing him today for him to show up out of the blue like this._

Rory smiles, blinking back tears when Arnu’s force ghost leans in to plant a kiss on her cheek. She can’t feel it, of course, but she appreciates the gesture all the same.

 _“I miss you.”_ She whispers through the force.

“I’m never far, my love.”

“ _Never far_ _isn’t close enough._ ”

Arnu sighs, watching as their granddaughter thumbs as the necklace that sits, tucked under her shirt like always; Rory’s binding necklace.

The older woman had felt it fitting to give her half of the binding necklace to Rey, since she’d wanted to keep Arnu’s close.

Rey was often passed over in favour of other things, and other people, because she didn’t fuss about being ignored. It was Rory’s hope that her necklace would always remind Rey of how treasured she is, how special she is, even in the saddest of times and the darkest of places.

Arnu smiles at his granddaughter, but there’s something in the way his lips curve that almost looks sad, but Rory can’t quite put a pin down why that might be.

“I’m glad you gave that to her. She needs it.” He mutters quietly, a far-off look in his eye.

Looking back to Rey, Rory kneels down, opening her arms wide, and the small girl runs into them, squeezing her tiny limbs around the woman with every ounce of strength she has, and nuzzling her head against her chest.

 _“I wish she could have known you. She would have loved you so much.”_ She whispers to Arnu, who nods, wiping a tear from his eye.

Arnu passed the day Rey was born, so to her, Rey is almost like a parting gift. A grandchild that embodied the two of them in ways that still make her tearful and nostalgic. A twist of the face here, and quirk of an eyebrow there; the quiet resilience in every move she makes, and her uncanny ability to see the bright side of things.

“Me, too,” He kneels down, placing his transparent hand over Rory’s as it travels up and down Rey’s back. “Maybe she’ll call for me, someday.”

_“I’ll make sure she knows how. I’ll teach her.”_

Arnu smiles, his ghost trailing fingers down the side of her face before he disperses back into the Force. Rory wishes desperately she could feel them, feel him, just one more time.

“I’m _sooooo_ gwad you’we home.” Rey whispers against her shirt, and Rory grins as she smooths her weathered hand down the back of the girl’s head. “I missed you, Gwamma.”

“Oh, my little Scavenger bird, I missed you too. More than you can ever know.” She says, before gathering Rey up into her arms, and standing to move out of Maz’s way.

She smiles as she approaches Leia’s son Ben, whose hair is piled on top of his head in an outrageously messy bun, and when Rey snickers in her arms, she thinks she knows exactly who to blame for the current state of his tresses.

“Hello, Ben.” She says, before setting Rey back on the countertop. “Nice hairstyle, you got there.” She smirks when Ben turns absolutely beet red. Rey beams.

“Isn’t he _beawtifuw?_ ” The girl mocks, giggling wildly as her feet swing over the edge of the counter top.

Rory can’t help the guffaw that leaves her lips when Ben bends in an awkward half-bow that’s incredibly stiff, and all too formal.

“Hello, Ma’am.” He says, his voice cracking as he addresses her, and Rey absolutely loses her mind, laughing with a carefree abandon that puts a smile on Rory’s face.

“Please, no need for such formalities. You’re as good as family, here. Just Rory is fine.” Her eyes soften when somehow, Ben turns even redder than he was before as he clears his voice.

“Rory, then. Good to see you.” He croaks, and she can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the nervous boy. Shaking her head, the older woman turns back to Rey, who is watching Ben with an adoration in her eyes that is usually reserved for either herself, or Maz.

_Well, that’s new._

“So,” She gestures to the bandages that peek through Rey’s torn leggings. “What happened here, little one?”

Rey beckons her closer with a crook of her finger, and Rory sneaks closer, cupping her ear as the young girl leans forward; her grin wide and eyes sparkling.

“I twipped twyna save a biwdy, and I got ‘tuck in a bush. It was pwetty scawy, but then Ben-head tawked to me in my head, and towld me it was gownna be owkay, and he was comin’ to get me,” Rey pauses her whispering, wiggling with excitement before she continues—but something Rey said catches her attention.

_She heard him…in her head? But that’s—_

Her thoughts are cut off when Rey resumes her tale, her quiet whispering rising in pitch as her excitement runs free.

“So when Ben-head got there, I showed him the biwdy, and he towd me it was gone—but Gwamma, _I saved him!_ I cwosed my eyes and thought ‘bout fixin’ him, and he hopped back up and fwew away into the sky!” She leans back then, pride gleaming in her eyes while she clasps her hands in her lap, waiting eagerly for a response.

But all Rory can feel is fear churning in her guts, cutting through her bones.

_Not my grandbaby. Anyone but my grandbaby._

She looks to Ben, and when she sees the flash of panic in his eyes, she closes hers, and brings Rey into her arms, hoping and praying that she’s wrong—that her precious girl doesn’t have that cursed ability.

“I’m so proud of you, Scavenger bird. So proud.” She gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind the girl’s ear before pulling back.

Her eyes shift as she catches movement in her peripheral vision, and she notes that Ben is closer now, concern pulling his lips taut, and his eyebrows in.

_Ah. Safe to assume he knows about energy sharing, then._

“I’m gonna talk with Ben for a bit, okay? Why don’t you go say hi to your parents while they’re here? I’m sure they’d be glad to see you.” Rory squeezes Rey’s shoulders affectionately, before lifting her off the counter, and onto the floor.

Rey starts towards her mom and dad, but Rory quickly grabs her hand, pulling her back to whisper into her ear.

“Rey, I know you’re excited about the bird, but could we keep that our little secret, just for a little while? Would that be okay?” She says gently, pleading.

The girl frowns, her eyebrows pulling together to wrinkle her forehead, but to Rory’s relief, she nods.

“Yeah, Gwamma, it can be a secwet.” She says, before planting a peck on Rory’s cheek, and bounding over to where her parents are talking animatedly with the twins.

“Mama, Papa!” She says, grinning widely as Jarek sweeps her up into his arms, and Senna tickles her ribs.

Rory sighs, a soft smile pulling at her lips. They weren’t bad parents, not by any stretch of the imagination. Busy, and being pulled in every direction, absolutely, but they loved their children deeply. Unfortunately, it’s hard to see the needs your children have when a million other things are pulling your attention.

That, she understands quite well.

Bringing her attention back to the matter at hand, she turns to make eye contact with Ben, signaling for him to follow with a jerk of her head as she walks into the connected dining room, nearly jumping at the sudden attention, he quickly follows behind her.

Once they're out of earshot, Rory turns on her heel to face the boy. He looks like he’s on the verge of panic, his eyes wide as he fidgets with his hands, and she quickly puts her hands out in an attempt to placate the teen.

“No need to be nervous, Ben. I just have a few questions for you.” She says, calm and reassuring.

Ben nods, clearing his throat. “Okay. Sorry, this whole day has just been…I don’t even know what.” He says, and Rory gives him a lopsided smile.

“I can imagine,” Rory frowns, her face turning serious. “In regards to that, you haven’t told anybody about what happened with the bird, have you?”

Ben blanches, quickly shaking his head, and Rory closes her eyes, letting out a relieved sigh.

_Thank the Maker._

_“_ Honestly, I really wasn’t sure what to do about it, because I know some people would take advantage of the knowledge, so I thought it would be safer to just stay quiet for now.” He says, his eyebrows furrowing.

Rory thinks it’s much too somber a look for the teen, but at the same time, she’s glad he’s treating the situation with the careful gravity that it requires.

She nods at the teen. “Good. That’s good. Neither of us should ever breathe a word of this to anyone. If anyone else found about this, even the most trustworthy of people, Rey’s life could be in serious danger.”

“I completely agree. There are people out there who’d do _anything_ to get their hands on someone with her ability,” Something flashes in his eyes, a protective determination that makes Rory curve her lips in a smirk. “I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to her.” He says, his eyes fixed on hers.

 _He means it. Good._ Rory puts her hand on the boy’s shoulder, patting gently.

“I know you will. You’re one of the good ones, Ben,” She mulls her next words, unsure if she should even say them, but when the Force curls around her, prompting, she knows she must. “I know this may seem…out of the blue, if you will, but I want to apologize for your parents being as busy as they were when you were young.”

Ben frowns, confusion glazing his eyes. “What? Thank you, but I don’t understand how their actions would be your fault.” He says, his gaze lowering to the floor.

Rory sighs deeply. “If it weren’t for me constantly needing them at council meetings and the like, I’m sure you’d have gotten to spend much more time with them. I can imagine that not having them around was hard on you.”

He sucks in a breath of air, opening his mouth as if to say something, but closing it just as quickly, his brow furrowing once more. Rory smiles sadly at the boy.

“And for what it’s worth, Ben, I think your parents would be incredibly proud of you, and all that you do for us in the mansion.”

Ben flattens his lips. “Thank you, but I really don’t think they are. They think being a Knight is stupid. They think I’d be better off sitting pretty as a figurehead prince than saving people who need help.” He mutters, catching himself when he realizes he’s rambling. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Rory waves a hand. “It’s fine, Ben. I know they didn’t take well to you wanting to join the Knights, but that’s just because they don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. They love you, and want you safe.” She says, her heart breaking at the distant look in his eyes at the mention of his parents.

She’d maybe have to have a talk with Leia about her son whenever she saw her next.

“I…thank you. I never thought of it that way.” He says, his voice quiet, broken.

The tone of it pulls at Rory’s heartstrings, and she finds herself bringing a hand up to rub the side of the boy’s arm.

“You’re doing well here, Ben, and you’re going to make a great Knight someday. You’re kind, resourceful, determined, and most importantly, you care about people. Those are the things that will make you great, not approval from other people.”

She smiles, meeting his eyes when he finally looks up from the ground, only to see the familiar sheen of unshed tears.

“I, uhh…Thank you, Rory. Really. That means more than you know.” He says, all-too quietly, and the older woman simply nods before gesturing off to the kitchen.

“I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Thanks for taking such good care of my little Scavenger bird. She really seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Ben flushes, letting out an embarrassed chuckle as he stuffs his hands in his pants pockets.

“I’m not sure why, but I’m glad she has. She’s a good kid, though I can’t help feeling like an extra pair of eyes to look after her isn’t a bad idea.”

He smiles then, a twinkle shining in his eyes, and for a moment, Rory really considers talking to him about Rey being able to hear him in her mind…but she decides against it.

She’ll talk to them about it when they’re older. They’re just too young right now, and regardless, she doubts they’ll be able to stay too far away from each other as the time passes, anyways.

Most dyads can’t, anyway.

Ben nods his head, before turning on his heel, and walking briskly back into the kitchen.

“Hey Ben, have you seen my Mom?” Rory hears Senna ask, and she exhales deeply, pressing her lips into a thin line.

_Time to start looking for the best exit route._

She loves her daughter, really. She’d do just about anything for her—but if she has to hear another rant about how she should be getting ready to retire, or take up knitting, or some other patronizing thing, she might lose it.

Senna means well, but Rory does not appreciate the reminder that she’s approaching her golden years.

Eyeing the hallways, she takes quick, careful steps out of the dining room, quietly gathering tendrils of the Force into her hand, and sending them out to unlatch and open the entrance into the secret tunnels, before climbing in, and making her escape.

Again, she loves her daughter. So much. But sometimes…Rory sighs, closing the door to the tunnels.

 _Sometimes_. 


	5. Smoke and Mirrors (2005)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Palpatine mansion finds itself under attack.
> 
> Potential Triggers: Gun violence, nuanced fire, child in distress, nuanced death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey awakens to the thick, pungent scent of smoke filling her nostrils, which causes the small girl to cough, and quickly cover her mouth with her thick comforter. Groggy from sleep, she sits up, looking around her room in an attempt to figure out where the suffocating stuff was coming from.

As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she's able to make out wisps of it traveling underneath her door—dark and ominous as it curls up and into her room.

Frowning, she climbs off her bed, covering her mouth with the neck of her pajamas—light grey, with watermelons stitched all over them—Mazzy said they were from her mama, but Rey knew better. She knows that mama didn’t know how to sew, and she definitely wouldn’t know that watermelons are her favourite.

Softly padding towards the door, she reaches for the handle, hesitating when she hears voices yelling from the other side.

“The First Order claims your wretched family for the horrors it inflicted upon our brethren, and for the execution of our Supreme Leader! Tonight, you’ll all know the same suffering that he did!” A man bellows ferociously, causing Rey to take a few steps back from the door.

“ _THE FIRST ORDER LIVES!_ ” Several people cry with an anger so bold, _so loud_ , that she can feel it as it rumbles through the air.

Rey knows that something isn’t right here, the feeling only intensifying she begins to feel fear’s sharp claws trailing ominously up her spine, sending nervous tremors through her limbs.

As if responding to her distress, the familiar, faceless presence—the Force, Ben had called it—nudges at her, wrapping around her small form tightly, anxiously tugging at the hem of her pajamas to coax the girl away from the door. She frowns, her breathing becoming shallow as she shakily backs up a few more steps, stopping abruptly when her hands come into contact with the foot of her bed.

It’s then that she hears them; _the screams_.

Rey whimpers quietly. The shrill echoes of pain sound like her mama and papa. She swallows thickly, her mouth going dry. She really hopes she's wrong. The Force bristles, intensifying its tugging in an attempt to get her down on the ground, where the smoke isn’t as thick, and where she can find a place to hide.

“Mama, Papa…they’we huwt. I feew it… _they’we huwt!_ ” She keens whisper quiet into the air, slowly lowering herself to the ground, and shuffling further into her room. Shivering from the cold hardness of the floor, she remembers Ben-head telling her about the trap door in the back of her closet, and that if anything ever happens, to hide in it.

She briefly wraps her arms tightly around herself, her lower lip trembling as she quickly makes her way over to her closet, feeling around for something—a latch, a handle, a hole— _anything_.

A loud cracking noise sounds from outside the room, and Rey freezes, whipping her head towards the door as the cacophony of yelling and banging grows louder. Her heart hammers in her chest.

 _A_ _nd closer_. 

With renewed speed, she runs her hands hastily along the wall, finally finding a little dip to grab onto. She desperately hopes and pleads that this is the door, not just a random divet in the drywall. Her small tongue darts out to lick her lips, and she reaches forward, curling her little fingers around the edge, pulling as hard as she can. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill, and she grits her teeth as the panic swims through her mind.

She doesn’t want to hide, she really, _badly_ doesn’t. She wants to go help her family. But then, she hears a shrill shriek from the next room over, and fat tears start rolling down her cheeks as she continues tugging with all her might at the entryway to the tunnels.

_That was definitely Myka._

She gasps, slapping a hand over her mouth to quiet the noise, shaking her head in denial. But deep down, she knows it, feels it in her heart that Myka is no longer there, that her sister is gone.

Rey bites down on her lip, hard. She can’t cry. _She can’t._ She has to stay silent, and she has to hide. But how can she even think of doing that when her family’s pain echoes so clearly through the walls of the house and the walls of her heart, permeating anything and everything, absolutely suffocating in its wrath.

Rey covers her mouth, pressing her face into the fabric of one of her thicker sweaters in hopes of stifling her sob as she hears another yell—a feebler one. It’s softer than the last, and devoid of hope. She clutches at the sweater, her nails digging rips into it as she chokes out another soft sob.

_Milo._

A void of sadness weighs down on her like several bags of bricks, and with shaking fists, she releases the sweater to focus on the warm presence that is quite intent on wrapping itself around her protectively, trailing soft, comforting circles across her back. Tentatively reaching out with her own presence, a flood of safety rings through her heart and mind, calming her as she takes in shaky breaths.

She's not exactly sure what the Force even is, but she's glad it's here, glad she's not truly alone.

Wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt, she knows that she needs to hide, and fast. Quickly, she hops out from the closet, and goes to stand in front of her white wicker laundry basket. The tears continue leaking down her round cheeks, but the determination in her eyes is alive and well as she steels herself for what she’s about to do.

She grabs an armful of clothes before quietly climbing into the basket, and arranging them on top of, and around herself. It’s the best hiding place she has. No one has ever been able to find her when she hides in here.

Breathing as quietly as she dares, she digs her grandma's necklace out of her shirt, rubbing slow circles over it with her fingertips. She closes her eyes, focusing all her effort into softening her breathing as she rubs her thumb over the round locket, the booming crash of someone kicking in her door causing her to tense, her eyes wide as saucers as she grips the pendant in her tiny fist.

In a desperate plea for safety, she unknowingly reaches out with her mind, grasping for the little red string that had given her so much comfort when she’d been stuck in the maze. A wave of panic hits her, followed by confusion, and worry so thick it feels more suffocating than the heaps of clothing on top of her.

The Force seems to turn stiff against her, like a protective shield, whispering promises of safety and love as the angry men stomp into her room.

“You sure there’s even anyone in here?” A ruffle of blankets, and the creak of the closet door.

“Doesn’t look like it. _You!_ Look under the bed, just to be sure. No Palpatine is left unscathed tonight.”

Rey stays as still as a statue, huddled and sweaty under piles of dirty clothes as the Force starts to rub circles over her back once more.

Someone nudges at the laundry basket, ruffling the top layer of garments, and Rey holds back a sob.

 _“They’we gownna find me. BEN! HEWP!”_ She screams across the red string.

  


* * *

  


“For the last time, Ben, you’re staying here!” Chewie bellows, a growl to his voice that Ben scarcely hears. The teen grits his teeth, brow furrowed in anger.

“How can you possibly ask me to do that? I’m training to be a Knight of Organa for crying out loud, and the First Order has come out of hiding! I need to protect—"

“ _Ben_. This isn’t a drill—this isn’t waxing my motorcycle, or mapping the tunnels—this is _real_ , and I don’t think you’re ready for an attack of this scale. Now move it, kid, I have to go! The First Order is already on the mansion grounds!” The General turns to leave, but pauses, enveloping Ben in a bone crushing hug, before gripping his shoulders urgently.

“If things go south, you use those tunnels, you hear me? Stay safe. _Please._ ” Ben clenches his fists as Chewie grabs his rifle out of his locker, bounding out the door of the staff house to catch up to his troop.

Ben pushes a hand through his hair, and begins pacing back and forth throughout the common room.

_What is the point of training if I can’t help the people I love when I need to?!_

He yells out in frustration, both hands coming up to grip his head as Maz walks in, sympathy lying thick behind her coke-bottle glasses.

“Ben, we need to go to the basement. I know this is hard—trust me, if anyone wants to kick some First Order ass out there, it’s me—but for now this is where we need to be.” She puts a comforting hand at his back, leading him forward towards the staircase.

“What about the kids, Maz?” He chokes out, bile rising in his throat. If what he’s heard about the First Order is _at all_ true...dread pools in his gut, and his heart beats frantically. They’ll kill everyone. Even the twins.

_Even little Rey._

He works his throat, and pushes the rising panic down, shoving it into the recesses of his mind so that he can focus on what he needs to do. Which right now, is getting to the basement with the other staff. He breathes deep, letting Maz’s hand on his back lead him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

They’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Or at least, that’s what he tries to tell himself as he trudges down the smooth wooden stairs, and into the dimly lit basement of the staff house, making a bee-line through the main sitting area, and towards the entry to the secret tunnels.

Better safe than sorry. At least if anything were to go wrong, he would be ready to put his tunnel mapping know-how to good use. With his back against the wall, Ben slides down until his backside hits the ground, his brain swimming with worry for the Palpatines. Sliding clammy hands over his face, he closes his eyes, trying to focus on his deep breathing techniques—yet another thing that Chewie always insists are important.

Tonight, he finally understands why.

As he takes a deep lungful of air in through his mouth, he pictures peace. He pictures the twins, arguing over who has the better lesson plan for the day. He sees Rey, collecting various knick-knacks as she toddles around the mansion grounds.

And then he hears the gunshots, and his eyes snap wide open, his frail peace shattered.

With a sharp exhale, he shoots up from the floor, and rushes towards a quickly paling Maz. Her eyes are wide with panic as she stares unbelieving at her pager, eyebrows furrowed, her mouth opening and closing rapidly. Ben clenches his jaw.

_This is not good._

He places his large hand gently on Maz’s shoulder, and she whips her head towards him, blinking away the tears that are rapidly pooling behind her round glasses.

“What happened?” He asks, trying his hardest to sound calm, but truthfully, he’s anything but. His mind is reeling, and though he isn’t much one for prayer, he prays to the Maker that everyone is alright.

“No, they can’t be. _They can’t be._ Senna and Jarek…they…they’re—” Maz covers her mouth with a shaky hand as her eyes fill with a grief so thick it could drown him. Ben frowns, glancing down at the pager, paling instantly as he sees what’s written across the screen.

_Code Black 2, 3._

His heart stops in his chest, and for a moment, all he can hear is the rushing of his blood through his veins.

A code black. _Death._

_No._

He gulps, his mouth going dry, his tongue like sandpaper. If they’d gotten to Senna and Jarek, and _succeeded_ …he feels his heart drop to his chest as Maz breathes deeply, trying to compose herself.

Another ping from her pager, followed a choked sob. “Oh, Maker _, no_.”

Ben tenses as tears begin to roll freely down Maz’s wrinkled cheeks.

“ _Not the kids._ ”

The woman’s lower lip trembles as she falls to her knees. Ben, however, finds himself frozen stiff, the sounds around him becoming muddled and unclear as he tries to make sense of the words that had just fallen from Maz’s mouth.

 _No, no, no. They can’t have…they wouldn’t. They’re so young._ He denies vehemently, even though he knows exactly what those cultists are capable of.

He thinks back to the texts that his mother used to make him read, the ones that went into detail about how First Order members would torture young children until they accepted their ways as truth, killing them if they wouldn’t comply. _The re-education chambers._

His blood freezes in his veins, and he sinks to the floor, grasping at Maz’s hand for comfort as he dares to glace at the screen.

_Code Black 4, 5  
_

He blinks to make sure he isn’t misreading the page, but no matter how hard he looks, there’s no number six. Six is Rey’s number. His heart thuds, adrenaline leaking into his system as the Force tugs at him, willing him to get the tunnels, to get to her.

_Rey might still be alive._

“Maz _._ ” He rasps, pointing to the pager. “No number five. _They haven’t found Rey_.” Ben rises to his feet, and older woman does the same. Quickly wiping the tears from her eyes, Maz shakes out her hands, exhaling deeply.

“Find her, if you can,” She fixes Ben with stern eyes. “But if you can’t get her out, you _run_. You hear me, Ben Solo? I will _not_ lose anyone else today.”

Her words are resolute, and Ben nods silently, afraid that if he speaks the words he wants to, that his emotions will get the better of him. He knows that now’s really not the time for that.

“Do you know how to get through the tunnels?” He asks.

Maz raises her eyebrows, an amused smile tugging at her lips as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“I’m the one who built them, you know.”

“You— _what?_ ” Ben’s eyes bug at the revelation, but before he can really process her words, there is a familiar tugging at the back of his mind; the red string.

_Rey._

As if sensing that Ben’s attention has been taken elsewhere, her face turns serious, and she rolls up her sleeves.

“Go. I’ll take care of things here.”

Ben nods at the woman, whipping the door to the tunnels open, and barreling inside—but not before reaching his mind out to the little red string that he knows will somehow connect him to Rey.

_Probably should have told somebody about that…at least Rory knows about the energy sharing._

Ben sighs noisily, suddenly eternally grateful to his mother for pulling Rory to Alderaan for yet another conference. At least with her grandma safe and sound, Rey would still have someone to call family.

He feels heavy dread churning in his gut once more, the urgency of the situation piling heavy in his mind.

That is, if she’s still alive when he gets to her.

The thought has him gritting his teeth as he grabs hold of the string in his mind, and the breath is knocked out of him as he is hit with possibly the strongest, most potent fear he has ever felt. It is absolutely suffocating, and it nearly makes him freeze in his tracks.

Then he hears her.

 _“They’we gownna find me! BEN! HEWLP!”_ She all but shrieks across the string.

Ben blanches, adrenaline rushing through his veins, and he realizes that Rey is hiding, and likely, the First Order goons are already in her room.

“Like hell.” He grits out, skidding around a corner as he runs through the tunnels with all his might, straining his limbs to stretch further, run faster, push harder. He doesn’t care if he’s hurt. Not when Rey's safety is involved.

They’ve lost too much tonight. Too many. He won’t lose her, too. It would break him.

 _“I’m on my way. Stay quiet.”_ He sends across the bond.

Breathing heavily, he takes the last corner a little too fast, falling into the wall with a low thud, wincing as his shoulder bashes into the concrete walls, but he pays little attention to that when he approaches the trap door leading to Rey’s room.

Not wasting any time, he crouches to press his larger-than-average ear up to the hard surface, listening intently for any noise. His eyes shift, and his brows crease as he reaches out to Rey.

_“Are they still there, Pipsqueak? Can you hear them?”_

He pushes more comfort across the string, and he senses her still, trying to push down her panic to do what he’s asked.

 _“I don’t hear them. Ben, I’m scared.”_ She whimpers to him, her speech impediment gone in the sanctuary of their minds, and he feels his soul cry out as her fear, her heartbreak, and her loneliness all crash through to him like a tidal wave. Swallowing the emotions that rise in his throat, he feels his mouth go dry.

_You shouldn’t have to know this brand of pain. This is so wrong._

He curses lowly, clenching his fist until the blunt of his nails dig into his skin, a biting reminder to keep his calm. To make sure the First Order soldiers are gone.

 _“I’m here, Rey, okay? Stay right where you are, and don’t make a sound.”_ Rey mutters a quiet affirmation in his mind, and Ben slowly, silently opens the door that connects to the girl’s room—but only a crack.

Scanning the room, he sighs in relief. Empty. It’s empty. Staying in position, he sends another wave of calm, reassuring warmth across the red string.

 _“Can you tell me where you’re hiding? You’re doing so well, Pipsqueak. You picked such a good hiding spot.”_ He speaks in the softest tone he can manage.

He remembers when he was a young boy, when his mother used to do the same for him whenever he had a nightmare. He isn’t sure it will help, but the least he can do is try. 

A soft sniffle sounds through his mind as she calms, ever so slightly.

 _“I’m in my laundry basket. No one ever finds me when I hide here.”_ She mutters, trying her best to keep the fear out of her trembling voice. Ben can still feel it though. It pulses erratically across the strange red string that connects them; dark and foreboding.

Quickly, he opens the secret door in the back of Rey’s closet, and silently slips through, darting towards the wicker basket that sits just past the closet doors with a focused determination. Nudging it with his foot to try to alert her of his presence, he starts to push the clothes to the side until he uncovers Rey’s tiny form, huddled in on herself as she clutches at something hanging around her neck.

His heart screams in agony. She’s so, scared, and so traumatized in a way that child should never have to endure.

Ben can feel it rolling off her skin; despair, loss, mourning. He stiffens, the air leaving his lungs when he makes the realization.

She’d felt them die. All four of them.

His heart climbs into his throat, and he feels like he’s about to throw up at the absolute horror that invades his senses.

Despite that, he reaches down to gently touch her shoulder, sending waves of reassurance, and calm, and _‘I’m here’_ across the bond. The small girl tilts her head to look at him, quickly tucking the necklace back into her pajamas, and reaching her arms up to him.

With no hesitation, he picks the small girl up, and she immediately clings to him, shaking, whimpering as her arms wind around the back of his neck, and her legs attempt to circle his torso.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, Pipsqueak.” He says, whisper quiet, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her back. She nuzzles into the crook of his neck, and his heart breaks as he feels the warmth of her smeared tears on his skin.

_I’ve got to get her out of here._

Taking quick, soundless strides back to the tunnel entry, he slows as he hears a crisp, authoritative voice calling from down the corridor. Rey tenses when it starts talking, her arms tightening around his neck, her breath quickening.

“What do you mean only four? There are five, you imbeciles, _five!_ Search the rooms again! The little menace has to be hiding somewhere.”

Rey whimpers at the man’s words, and Ben quickly ducks into the tunnel entrance, closing the door almost all the way.

“Shhhh, I won’t let them hurt you.” His words are nearly just breath as he whispers to Rey, whose grip does not slacken as the voice echoes down the hall, closer now.

“What are you waiting for? Find her!” A pause, one thicker than the tension flowing through the room. “And when you do, bring her to me. _Alive._ ”

A muffled chorus of ‘ _yes sir’s’_ sound through the hall, and Ben chooses that as his moment to flee.

Securing the secret entrance, he holds Rey securely to his chest as he starts running as fast as his lanky limbs are able to carry him.

“Gonna get you out of here, okay, Pipsqueak?”

A quiet sniffle.

“What…what bout’ M-Mama and Papa?” She chokes out with a whine. “Milo and Myka…they’we gone. I feew it.” A sob wracks through her tiny frame, and Ben lets go of the red string in his mind, putting his walls back up as her tears soak into his shirt.

“Rey…I don’t think…”

He can’t finish his words, can’t put her through more grief. Not tonight.

Ben’s heart is breaking for this small girl, and he has no idea how to help her. He wants to be able to comfort her through the mysterious bond they share, but he can’t. Not when her pain is so fresh, so overwhelming. He needs to focus, and he can’t do that if all he’s thinking about is how much Rey is suffering.

He needs to get them to safety first, then he can worry about how to help piece Rey back together again.

With one arm keeping Rey in place, he pulls out his pager, sending a coded message to Maz.

_Found 6. Safe. Headed to ESC 0._

It’s only seconds before he receives a reply.

_FO goons everywhere. Run far. Will msg when safe._

He clicks his tongue as he clips his shoulder on another corner, a sting of pain slicing through him as he types his reply.

_Will do. Be safe._

His pager buzzes, and a throb of pain goes through the arm he'd smashed against the tunnel wall as he reads Maz’s message.

_Be careful._

He frowns. He always is, but he supposes that Maz will never stop worrying about his safety. It’s nice, in a way, knowing she cared so deeply about him. Perhaps what having a doting mother would have felt like.  


As they near the exit to the garden, he nudges at Rey’s chin, coaxing her to look at him. Teary, puffy hazel eyes filed with despair answer his call, and he stuffs down his need to fix the hurt, to make her better again.

Now isn’t the time.

“We’re going to escape through the gardens, okay? While we’re moving, I need you to be as quiet, and still as you can, and once we get into town, we’re going to go stay with my friend until Mazzy calls me to take you to her, okay?”

She nods, her lower lip trembling.

“Owkay. Mazzy’s owkay?” She asks, hope glimmering through her tears. Ben smiles softly, tucking a wild, sleep-matted chunk of hair behind her ear.

“Yes, Pipsqueak. Mazzy’s okay.”

Rey sighs deeply, tucking her face back into the crook of Ben’s neck, the relief of Maz’s safety pulling her deeper into the haze of shock, like it was the last straw she needed to succumb.

Pulling out his pager, he sends off a quick message to Poe, hoping desperately his pager is on, and that he’s still awake.

 _FO attacked, need help. Your place safe?_ He sends the message, climbing up the steps to the garden’s exit, opening the door just enough to peek through.

It’s dark, and his eyes take a minute to adjust, and as they do, he pales as he notices a chrome armor-clad figure about five feet away, headed toward the marble statue that houses the exit door.

_Shit, shit, shit!_

Not daring to close it and draw the guard’s attention, he ducks low to the stairs with Rey in tow, rubbing soothing circles on her back as he waits for the soldier to pass.

He feels the horror rise in him as the guard gets closer, and he scrambles to think of an exit strategy. Absently, he remembers Chewie telling him about how advanced Force users are able to knock people unconscious, simply by willing it. Ben frowns. He’s never done that before, but as he feels Rey curl tighter in his arms, he knows he has to try.

The guard reaches their hand forward, and as if in slow motion, they inch the door open, and Ben springs into action. Whipping his arm forward, he gathers as much of the Force is his palm as he can, asking it, _begging it_ , to bend to his will.

But nothing happens.

An amused, feminine chuckle sounds, and Ben curses softly as moonlight pours into the tunnels. His hand is quickly brought back to tuck Rey’s face further into his neck, in hopes of hiding her identity.

Though, he’s sure the effort will be in vain; there aren’t many children around the Palpatine grounds, and they know Rey is alive.

Even so, he knows he has to _try_.

“Well, now. What do we have here?” The soldier’s voice is condescending, and muffled by her helmet. Ben swallows thickly, shifting his body to the side in an attempt to shield Rey.

With the subtle movement, the guard snaps the cold muzzle of her assault rifle down to Ben’s forehead with a flick of her wrist, pressing the biting metal threateningly into his skin.

“ _Don’t. Move._ ” She hisses, leaning down to inspect the tunnel. Another chuckle. “ _Ah._ An escape route.” She shakes her helmet clad head, the pressure of the gun increasing on Ben’s forehead, sending chills down his spine.

“So this is why we couldn’t find the rest of you filthy murderers. Very clever—we should’ve known they’d think of something like this.”

Ben’s heart hammers in his chest as he desperately reaches for the Force, feeling it twitch and snarl around his hand. He knows the Force’s anger isn’t towards him. It doesn’t like this development, doesn’t like that Rey is in danger, that he is in danger. He frowns.

_So then help me. Show me how to do this._

As if responding to his call, the Force gathers itself in his hand, tendrils of it whipping around him, willing him to focus, to listen.

Ben’s eyes meet the empty black glass of the soldier’s mask. The force whispers to him.

 ** _Focus._** A flicker of it by his ear. **_Send it, move it, bend it through her head. Put her to sleep_.** A nudge to the base of his neck. **_Make her boneless._**

He feels a bead of sweat drip down the side of his head, and as the soldier reaches her finger for the trigger, he knows it’s now or never.

Feeling the Force gather knowingly in his palm, he splays his hand wide open, sending it barrelling towards the guard’s helmet.

“ _No._ ” The guard’s posture straightens, stiff as a board—the gun leaving his forehead in her panic—and the Force invades her mind with ease.

He feels it squeak through her mental defenses, ripping her consciousness away from her, and sending her tumbling backwards into the grass. With a twitch of his hand, he bends the Force to the back of her neck, tweaking the muscles and bones there, leaving her immobile.

But, not before she gets a shot off into Ben’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for this cliffhanger, hahaha. It had to happen! 🙈
> 
> As always, thanks to my amazing beta, Morrigan's Muse! ✨
> 
> And thank YOU, dear reader for taking the time to read through my story. I so appreciate every kudos, comment, bookmark and subscription I get! I love seeing what you guys think of the story so far, your predictions and all that--reading them makes my heart do a happy little dance!!
> 
> Basically: you guys are the bomb.com. 😍💕❤  
> Until next time!


End file.
